A Family Divided
by chamita116
Summary: [COMPLETED] What if another member of the Royal Family had been abducted with Adora? PG13 for very mild violence. Please read and review!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: The characters depicted here are the property of Filmation, Mattel, and (I believe) Mike Young Productions. They do not belong to me. I'm not making any money from this story.

Just a few notes before we get started. First off, this is a "what if" kind of story that just sort of came to me one day. As such, while I've tried to stick as close to canon as possible, there are some things that have had to be changed. The first is that Chakra, Adora's caregiver while she was in the Horde, does not exist. I think you'll see why as the story progresses. So, sorry to anyone who is a big Chakra fan. Also, for the purposes of this story, let's pretend that the events of "The Secret of the Sword" happened during the second season of "He-Man and the Masters of the Universe", rather than after; specifically, immediately after the MOTU episode "The Origin of the Sorceress."

_A Family Divided_

**Chapter One**

It all happened so quickly.

One minute she was walking toward her babies' cribs, rejoicing in the news that the evil forces had been defeated. In the next minute, the door to the nursery was blasted open. A blue arm reached out of the dust caused by the explosion and wrapped around her waist, pulling her off the ground and away from the now-screaming infants. Her own shriek was cut short by the hand that descended upon her mouth like a blanket; bony fingers burrowed into her cheeks, and an all-too-familiar cackle filled the room.

The dust was beginning to clear, and as she twisted and writhed against Skeletor, she saw another figure emerge from behind the cadaverous villain. This second being walked past the evil warlord and his captive toward the cribs.

"Hold her," he ordered, fixing Skeletor with a menacing glare.

His face was visible then, and the mother began her shrieking anew. The creature swiftly approaching her children was Hordak, leader of the evil army that had just been defeated by her husband and his forces.

He descended upon one of the cribs and picked up the infant inside. He smiled wickedly down at the wailing, wriggling baby, pulling the bundle closer to his metal-plated chest.

"These children have a great destiny," he said above the woman's muffled screams, "And I will be the one to control it."

Rage filled the mother, and a sudden burst of energy shot through her veins. She bit down on the hand over her mouth, then drove the heel of her shoe into Skeletor's foot. Instinct and nauseating pain loosened his grip, and the woman pulled away.

She lunged at Hordak, desperate to pull her child from his grasp. She could hear voices in the distance, rapidly approaching footsteps in the hallway. Hordak's attention was momentarily redirected to the sound of what promised to be Eternian soldiers. She threw herself over the empty crib just as Hordak raised a gloved fist.

Masculine voices suddenly filled the room, ordering the defeated warlord to cease and desist. He paid them no heed; instead, he opened his fist to reveal a ball of golden light that, once released from the prison of his fingers, expanded to a circumference large enough to accommodate Hordak, the baby in his arms, and the woman who had just managed to catch a corner of the rose-colored blanket covering the infant.

Blinding light assaulted her eyes, and she could barely make out the shadowy figures of her daughter and the monstrous creature holding her. The screams of both her children filled her ears; she thought she heard a familiar voice yelling her name before her world shimmered into oblivion.

* * *

"Marlena!"

Duncan hurled himself toward the horrifying tableau, but he was too late. The trio disappeared into the swirling light, leaving Duncan to grab at empty space. The king's man-at-arms raced to the window and looked down at the ground below, praying to all the deities he knew that the ball of light had not been what he thought. Several seconds passed with no sign of the abductor and his victims.

"You!" he turned and barked at the two-dozen soldiers standing, weapons raised, in the room. "Spread out! Search the palace!"

"General Debben," he addressed a bronze-skinned man, "Gather as many soldiers as you can to search the city. Hordak cannot be allowed to leave Eternos!"

The men swiftly exited the room, Duncan fast on their heels. He was just about to run across the felled door when…

_Duncan!_

He stopped; this voice could not be ignored.

_Sorceress,_ he answered back telepathically, _Hordak has-_

_I know. _Her voice vibrated with tension and anguish.

_We have soldiers on the search. I must join them. _

_You needn't bother. _There was now a note of hopelessness in her words. _It **was** a dimensional portal that Hordak opened. _

Duncan dragged a hand across his face as a groan of despair escaped his lips.

_Do you know where he has taken them?_

Dared he hope?

_No_, she answered so softly that the response barely registered in his psyche.

_What do I do now, _he questioned this most powerful of women.

_Make sure the other child is secure. _

He nodded.

_You must inform Randor of what has occurred, and then bring him to Grayskull. _

He groaned again. How was he supposed to tell his friend that-

A soft sound- barely imperceptible above the pounding of his own heart- drew his attention to a figure that he had heretofore forgotten. One of the soldiers had managed to shoot a bolt of laser fire at Skeletor, knocking him into a wall and then into unconsciousness. Now the second party in Hordak's plan was beginning to stir. Duncan strode across the room, placed himself between Skeletor and the second crib, and aimed two laser guns at the villain's heart.

"Where are they?" he roared at the now-conscious man, "Where has he taken them?"

Skeletor's expression of confusion and pain rapidly shifted to one of amusement.

"Can you be serious?" he laughed up at Duncan. "Do you actually believe that I would tell you?"

It took every ounce of Duncan's self-control to refrain from firing both guns.

"You might as well," he said after several calming breaths, "After all, he betrayed you, did he not? He took away your victory."

"He **did** betray me," Skeletor admitted in a voice tinted with anger, "but I've still won."

"How do you figure that?" Duncan asked through clenched teeth.

"I am victorious in the knowledge that my brother just lost two members of the family he holds so dear."

"Why, you-" Duncan snarled.

"Now, old friend," Skeletor almost seemed to smile, "I know you'll be busy telling Randor that his wife and daughter are forever lost to him, but please do remember to give him my regards. I would do it myself, but I'm afraid I won't be sticking around."

He raised a hand, and Duncan found himself suddenly unable to move. He then raised his other hand; the paralyzed soldier watched as a nauseatingly familiar glow began to surround Skeletor.

"It turns out," the azure villain said as he rose from the floor, "That my treacherous tutor is not the only one who can teleport at will."

With that, Skeletor was gone. As the light faded, so did the numbness in Duncan's limbs. He roared in frustration, the sound filling the empty room.

Not quite empty, though. Duncan became aware of a whimpering that emanated from the crib behind him. He turned and looked down into the blotchy face of a day-old baby boy. Tears shimmered in his blue eyes, mirroring those that clung to his cheeks. He stared up at Duncan with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

"It's okay," Duncan managed to soften his voice, "It's alright, Adam."

He lifted the infant from his crib and held him against his chest, wrapping the blue blanket tighter around the small body. A clean, subtle scent found his nose, and Duncan inhaled deeply. Soap. He drew a shaky breath as he imagined Marlena bathing her children for the first time, blissfully unaware of the evil that awaited them all. Another image assaulted his brain—that of his queen being swallowed by mystic light.

"Duncan!" A voice called from the hallway.

Randor- king of Eternia, and victorious leader of the battle against the Horde- raced into the room. His face, flushed from running, paled quickly at the scene before him.

"What happened?"

Duncan closed his eyes and sighed. Could anything be as difficult as what he was about to do?

"Randor…"

The king's brown eyes darted across the room, taking inventory. Adam was there. Adora was probably in her crib. That left-

"Marlena," he choked out, "Where's Marlena?"

"Perhaps you should sit down, my friend." Duncan gestured toward a chair that had somehow managed to escape destruction.

"I do not want to sit down," Randor answered in a voice suddenly crisp and taut with anxiety, "I want you to answer my question. Where is my wife? Where is Marlena?"

"Hordak and Skeletor broke in," Duncan said slowly, his gaze intent on the king's face, "I do not know what happened between the time the alarm sounded and the time we arrived, but when we got in here, Hordak was holding one of the infants- Adora- in his arms. Marlena lunged for him, no doubt in an attempt to recover the baby. We ordered Hordak to stop, but were unable to fire due to the risk of hitting either the queen or Adora. Hordak managed to open a dimensional portal, and within seconds disappeared with both Marlena and your daughter."

Randor stared at his oldest friend in disbelief.

"A portal?" he managed after almost a minute, "To where?"

"I know not," Duncan answered, "The Sorceress contacted me telepathically immediately after the attack. She does not know where Hordak has gone, but she wishes both you and I to come to Castle Grayskull immediately."

"Yes," Randor murmured almost to himself, "Yes, of course. She's the Sorceress of Grayskull, the most powerful woman on the planet. She has the power of the Ancients at her fingertips. She'll find Marlena and Adora in no time."

"How is Adam?" the king asked suddenly, "Here, let me take him."

Duncan passed the quiet child to his father. Randor cradled the baby in his arms and spoke softly to him.

"I bet you want your mommy, huh, and your sister, too. That's what all those tears are about, isn't it? It's okay, little one. We're going to bring them back to us."

Randor looked straight at Duncan then, daring him to say otherwise. Duncan, remembering the hopelessness in the Sorceress's voice, stared at the floor.


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Hordak- leader of armies, instigator of wars, second-in-command to the most ruthless despot any world had ever encountered- snorted once again, intense displeasure stamped upon his ridged, white countenance.

"My master," the witch known as Shadow Weaver tried in her own, raspy way to appease the creature, "Your mission was a success. You have the child."

"I would hardly call _this_," he flung a hand at the figure kneeling before him, "a success."

"But, my liege…"

"There were two children, Weaver," Hordak snarled, "Two destinies, and I am now in control of only one."

"But, Lord Hordak, it is one more than you controlled before."

He snorted again, this time with a bit less vehemence, and rubbed his forehead as another round of screaming issued forth from a corner of the large room.

"Why is it still crying?" he roared at Shadow Weaver. "Is no one able to calm the thing down?

The enchantress was struggling for a response when a third voice addressed them both.

"She cries because she is scared."

Hordak quickly located the source of the sound and began shaking in rage.

"You are scaring her," the woman at his feet continued, "Your yelling scares her."

"Is that so?"

The warlord reached down, grabbed a fistful of the woman's auburn tresses, and pulled upward, forcing his second captive to her feet. He then pushed his face close to hers until there was only an inch or two between them. The woman's jaw was clenched in both pain and rage, yet still she managed to speak.

"I can calm her," she looked directly into his red eyes, "I can make her stop crying."

"You can die, is what you can do!" Hordak hissed.

He grabbed the laser gun strapped to his thigh, jerked the woman's head back, and held the weapon to the hollow of her slender throat.

"Wait, my lord!"

Hordak looked to his witch and snorted.

"Perhaps she is right," Shadow Weaver rasped, "We have no other woman capable of caring for the child."

"That is what you are here for!" Hordak snapped.

"I have it on good authority that babies require constant care," Shadow Weaver responded, "and your plans for this world call for a great deal of my time. I simply do not see how I can care for this child and still fulfill my other obligations to you."

"Go on."

"There is, of course, also the matter of the child's nourishment."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning," Shadow Weaver said, "that this woman is able to nurse the girl. I cannot."

"I am certain that we could devise other forms of feeding. Still," Hordak lowered his weapon ever so slightly and smiled, "It is both a practical and intriguing solution."

He loosened his grip on the woman's hair, allowing her head to fall forward.

"Imagine it, Weaver," he mused, "When it is time for that girl to fulfill her destiny, we'll return to Eternia with Randor's daughter as our loyal servant and his wife as our prisoner; then I will have my chance to get the other child, too."

He snorted heartily, this time in pleasure, and ran a finger down his captive's cheek.

"Just think, my dear," he breathed into her hair, "The Royal Family of Eternia reunited at last, but under **my** rule."

The baby's cries became louder, as if she somehow knew that her parent was being tormented. Hordak broke his hold on the woman, catching her against his body as she swayed. He turned her in the direction of her child's cries and laughed.

"Alright, Marlena. You said you can make her stop crying. Let us see if you are correct."

He laughed and snorted again, but all Marlena could hear were the screams of her baby. She walked briskly across the room, leaned over the small metal trunk in which her daughter lay, and gently picked up the wailing child. Adora's pale skin was now bright red from her screaming fit, and wisps of blonde hair were plastered to her tear-soaked face. She gasped for breath, coughed, and resumed screaming.

After positioning the baby so that her blonde head rested against her mother's shoulder, Marlena cupped one hand over the curve of Adora's skull and ran the other in a circular motion over her daughter's back. A slight tremor ran through Adora's tiny body at the physical contact.

"It's okay," Marlena began to murmur, "I'm here. Mommy's right here…"

She walked to and fro across the room, watching Hordak and Shadow Weaver even as she continued to rub Adora's back and speak softly to her.

"I know you're scared, but no one is going to hurt you. I won't let anyone hurt you…"

Adora's screams began to subside, and the tears soaking through the fabric of Marlena's gown soon became fewer in number.

"That's a good girl," Marlena whispered once Adora was calm and quiet, "That's my good, brave girl."

"Very impressive," a raspy voice cut through the silence, "Wouldn't you agree, Lord Hordak?"

"Indeed I would."

The man stepped closer to the mother and child and regarded them for a long moment.

"Congratulations, Marlena," he finally said, "You get to stay alive."

The woman refrained from glaring at her captor; instead, she lightly kissed the top of Adora's head and brushed a thin lock of hair away from the child's face.

Hordak, Shadow Weaver, and a dozen robot troopers marched the Eternian queen and princess to their new quarters. The metal grating beneath their feet and above their heads vibrated with the hum of machinery. Occasionally a group of troopers would file past carrying large pieces of metal, leading one to believe that these automatons were the extent of Hordak's labor force. Yet there were at least three instances during the journey when Marlena was certain she heard a whip cracking, followed by a shriek. The third time this happened, Adora began to whimper softly.

"Shhh," Marlena patted the child's back and murmured into her small ear, "I'm still here. Mommy's still here."

They walked for fifteen minutes before stopping in front of a black metal door. Engraved in the middle was the Horde symbol: a facsimile of a blood-red bat, its wings stretched as if in flight. Hordak pulled on the handle, grunting with apparent effort as the door creaked open. Weak light crept toward them, and Marlena could see that the floor of the space beyond was solid black marble.

"Here we are, my dear," Hordak's voice was almost jovial as he gestured past the door, "Your new home."

He nodded at something behind her, and one of the robot troopers pushed her roughly forward. The heel of her shoe caught in the grating below; she started to fall, prompting Hordak to catch her arm in a numbing grip.

"Careful, now. We wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

He placed his other hand against the center of Marlena's back and shoved her into the room. He released her arm at the same moment, and she barely managed to remain upright.

"Enjoy your stay," Hordak snorted before slamming the door. A second later, Marlena heard the distinct click of a key being turned, followed by laughter and receding footsteps.

Marlena turned her back to the door and surveyed their prison. It was small- each of the walls spanning a mere ten feet across- and black from floor to ceiling. The ceiling itself was only three feet above her head. A narrow mattress had been placed against the far wall, and a mud-colored blanket was folded at one end. There was no pillow.

The sickly light that Marlena had seen earlier emanated from the four corners of the ceiling; yet there were no lighting fixtures there, and there did not appear to be any buttons or switches with which to control the weak glow. Marlena decided that the light must be controlled by an outside source, which meant that it could vanish at any moment, leaving the imprisoned queen and her daughter in complete darkness.

A wooden bucket sat in the far right corner, and Marlena went to investigate. Perhaps it contained water. A cursory glance, however, proved that this was not the case. She regarded it for another second before realizing that it must be meant to serve as a makeshift toilet. She lifted the container. It was of insubstantial weight, and though completely solid, the wood was very thin. Instead of the metal handle that accompanied most buckets, two wooden handles jutted out.

Whoever prepared this room had known what they were about. There was no metal, no glass, no heavy woodnothing that Marlena could use as a weapon against her captors. Her father, a hearty advocate of self-defense training, had taught Marlena that almost any object could become a weapon if used in the correct manner. Right now, though, none of those objects were in the woman's vicinity. The rings on her fingers- her wedding band and one of the two Eternian rings of state- contained no sharp stones, and the belt she wore across her waist was of a thin, smooth metal. Her crown had a single spire that could be used as a jabbing point; but that was gone five minutes after she emerged from the portal, having been ripped off her head by Hordak and flung across the room. The action seemed like a good indication of what the tyrant had wished to do to Marlena herself after discovering her presence.

As she contemplated the lack of weaponry, Marlena realized that it hardly mattered. Even if she managed to attack and injure Hordak himself, she would still have to contend with the robot troopers guarding the halls. Not to mention the fact that she was in unfamiliar territory- which meant that she would most likely become lost and then be easily recaptured- and that any attempt at escape might bring harm to her daughter.

Adora whimpered then, pulling Marlena out of her reverie. She kissed the top of her daughter's head and patted her back.

"Are you hungry?" she murmured soothingly. "Is my little one hungry?"

She carried Adora over to the mattress, sat down, and pushed herself into the corner. She shivered; her gown offered little protection against the cold marble.

While nursing Adora, Marlena began making a mental list of the things she would need to care for the infant. Diapers, access to soap and water so that the child could be bathed, warmer clothes to combat the chill of the room… She would also need some sort of cradle; right now it would be too easy for Adora to roll off the mattress, and though the mattress itself was not that far off the ground, the floor below was too hard for Adora to survive any sort of fall.

Other objects came to mind, though these were not so much for Adora's body as they were for her mind. The child needed color and motion to stimulate her brain, and right now the most colorful thing in the room was the white mattress they rested upon. Marlena sighed, then prayed that they would not be here long enough to have to worry about Adora's mental development.

"Your father will come," she whispered almost to herself, "Your father will come very soon, and then we'll all go home."


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

Much had changed in the five and a half years since the Horde had been driven from the planet. All structures damaged in the war- from thatch-roof cottages to the Royal Palace- were whole once again. Vegetation thrived on soil once littered with fallen soldiers. Villages abandoned by their terrified inhabitants now teemed with life. Families torn asunder by the conflict were reunited as the planet began a new era of peace and prosperity. All, that is, except one family.

One hour after the abduction of Queen Marlena and Princess Adora, King Randor and Duncan stood before the Sorceress of Grayskull awaiting answers, a plan of action, and a reason to hope. The most powerful woman on Eternia did not have a great deal to offer. She told them that Hordak and Skeletor had conspired to take both children because of a belief that the twins' destinies would be greater than most. She informed them of what her powers had confirmed: that Hordak had, indeed, left the planet altogether. She assured them that she would continue to search, but that Hordak could be anywhere in the universe and that it could be a long time before his base was uncovered.

"Define 'a long time,'" King Randor ordered, either forgetting or discarding the fact that the Sorceress, by virtue of the powers vested in her by the Ancients, outranked him.

"Years," Grayskull's mystic guardian answered, "It could be years."

She then offered them the thinnest sliver of hope.

"It is not in Hordak's best interest to kill Adora," she murmured, "She can serve him better alive than dead."

Silence rang in the cavernous room as all three occupants absorbed that last statement.

"And my wife?" Randor finally managed. "How does she best serve Hordak?"

The Sorceress regarded the king for a long moment before answering.

"I cannot be certain, but I imagine that Hordak would want to eliminate any possibility of Adora discovering her true heritage."

She spoke with the utmost kindness and compassion, yet the response slammed into Randor with all the force of a battering ram; later he would wonder how he had managed to stay upright. The words seemed to ricochet off the ancient walls much longer than they should, and Randor started to cover his ears before realizing that the echo existed only in his mind.

The king would like to have left the castle then, but there was still one more matter to discuss. The Sorceress feared that news of the tragedy that had befallen Randor's family would be a crushing blow for the planet. How could they rejoice when their queen and princess had been taken from them? The people loved and respected Marlena, while the royal twins, born on the last eve of war, were thought by many to symbolize the approaching dawn of peace. What could it mean that one of them had been taken by the enemy? Had the Horde truly been defeated, or might they one day return?

Finally, after several hours of discussion, the three reached an agonizing decision. As Randor and Duncan departed Castle Grayskull, the Sorceress closed her eyes, raised her arms, and tapped into the psyches of all but two of Eternia's inhabitants; then she began to chant.

Four hours after the spell of forgetfulness had been cast, a king all but broken in spirit stood before his people and delivered the grim news: mere minutes after being defeated, Hordak broke into the royal nursery with the intent of abducting Prince Adam. A struggle ensued, a portal was opened, and Hordak escaped, taking Queen Marlena with him. No one asked about rescue missions; they did not have to. Anyone could guess what a ruthless creature like Hordak would do to the wife of the man whose armies had vanquished his.

The people were devastated. King Randor's wife had been well loved—not only as a queen, but also as a person. Most were intrigued by the common-born alien woman who had literally fallen from the stars and captured the king's heart; and those who at first wondered if she possessed the ability to rule were soon won over by her grace, wisdom, and devotion to her new people. Now all grieved for the queen's death, the king's loss, and the prince's future. How would the child fare with only one parent?

Now, as he stood just inside the garden and watched his son play with Duncan's daughter, Randor decided that perhaps he had done fairly well as a single parent. At almost six years old, Adam was a bright, curious, and affable child who was well liked by all who knew him. He and Teela, Duncan's adopted daughter, were friends before either could walk, and by now treated each other as the sibling neither one had, which made life a bit more eventful for their respective fathers.

Adam might never know about the sister who had been taken from him, but he knew a great deal about his mother. Randor had wondered how he would manage to talk to his son about Marlena without becoming too emotional, but it turned out to be surprisingly easy. Adam was given the abridged version of events, which was that his mother had died soon after he was born. He knew that his mother was from another planet, that she was intelligent and compassionate, and that she had loved her son very, very much.

Adam also knew what she looked like because there was a picture of her on the small table by his father's bed. Eternia did not have the same photographic technology as Marlena's home planet of Earth- although images could be taken and made into holograms, they could not be reproduced into a tangible form- but there were four photographs that the alien queen had with her when she crashed, and one of these was a self-portrait. In the photograph, his wife was sitting on the lowest branch of a tree. Her slender hands rested on either side of the branch, and she was smiling brightly into the camera. She wore a short-sleeved green dress that fell just past her knees- Randor could remember being surprised by the length when he'd first seen the picture- and no shoes; her bright red hair was accented by the light of the sun, filtered though it was by the unseen leaves of the tree.

Randor looked at that picture twice a day: once when he awoke, and again before he fell asleep. It was, by now, as much a part of his routine as eating, sleeping, or holding court; and each viewing brought with it a myriad of emotions. Love. Sorrow. Regret. Anger. That last emotion had, at first, been directed solely at Hordak and Skeletor; then, as the years passed, he found himself growing increasingly angry with the Sorceress of Grayskull. The most powerful woman on all Eternia, and she could not locate one little girl? Absurd, one part of his mind screamed even while the other whispered that the Sorceress was doing everything she could to find the missing princess.

Lately, though, he found that his rage was directed toward another; and he was filled with shame. How could he be angry with someone who had died right at the prime of life, who would never see her children grow up? What kind of person was he? Yet he could not help himself; ever since Adam's fifth birthday, six months ago, Randor found himself unable to feel anything but resentment toward Marlena. She had to have heard the soldiers approaching the nursery on that fateful day, so why had she sacrificed herself when help was already close at hand? How dare she leave him alone!

The king's bitter reverie was interrupted by a burst of shrill laughter. He looked toward the sound and smiled. Adam and Teela had climbed into the garden's white marble fountain and were now splashing each other with the liquid inside. Both children were already soaked from head to toe, their clothes clinging to their small bodies, hair plastered to their skulls. Droplets of the water they flung at one another dotted the ground near the fountain.

"That's one way to combat this heat."

"That it is," Randor answered without looking at the man standing behind him, "Hello, Duncan. I would have thought you'd prefer that breezy lab of yours to the outdoors."

"I found it hard to concentrate."

"Are the children bothering you?"

"No. Actually, it's nice to see them playing in that fountain. It brings back a lot of pleasant memories."

"Does it?"

Duncan nodded.

"I remember seven years ago, I walked into this garden just in time to see Marlena pull you down into that fountain to join her. The look on your face when you landed… the water dripping from the points of your crown… it was a sight to see, even if I still don't know how Marlena ended up there in the first place…"

Randor knew. He remembered watching this woman he was to marry in seven days walk around the wall of the fountain, head held exaggeratedly high as she glided barefoot across the water-slick marble. Apparently Lady Ailsa, courtier and self-proclaimed Mistress of Decorum, had taken it upon herself to 'turn that alien woman into a queen'; and apparently **that** involved four hours a day of making Marlena walk with books on her head and talk with a mouth full of marbles ("Like Eliza bloody Doolittle!" Marlena had muttered once in Randor's presence, causing him to scratch his head in confusion.) On the day in question, Randor was being treated to a parody of Lady Ailsa's latest lesson: how to walk. Marlena had just completed one full trek around the fountain when she slipped and fell into the water. She came up laughing and shaking the hair out of her face.

"Can you get out by yourself?" Randor asked, leaning over her.

"I can," she said between laughs, "But Lady Ailsa says that I am supposed to make myself appear helpless in your presence."

"Well, then. By all means, let's not disappoint Lady Ailsa."

He offered his hand, and as Marlena took it she looked up at him. By the time Randor caught the mischievous glint in her eyes, it was too late: Marlena pulled on his hand with an astonishing amount of strength, and the dignified king found himself in the water, his bride-to-be laughing hysterically beside him…

Duncan spoke from behind him, bringing Randor back to the present.

"The memory makes you happy, my friend?"

The king set his jaw and turned to his man-at-arms.

"Yes, but memories will not rule by my side or help me raise my son."

"You are angry at Marlena."

It was not a question.

"I know it is wrong," Randor muttered, more to himself than to his friend, "Marlena is most likely lying dead in some Horde-infested hell hole, and all I can think about is how angry I am at her for leaving me, for leaving Adam. What kind of man does that make me, Duncan?"

"You believe she willingly sacrificed herself?"

Randor looked away then, giving Duncan his answer.

"You are my friend, and my king," he said gently, "but you are wrong."

"Am I?"

"Randor, Marlena cannot have known what Hordak had planned when she lunged for him. How could she… how could anyone suspect that he would even have access to a dimensional portal? All she wanted in that moment was to get her child out of harm's way. I do not think that there was enough time for Marlena to even consider the possibility of her own death. I think you know as well as I do that she only did what any mother would, and I also know that you would have done the same in her place."

"I know all that, Duncan," Randor said, "I know that Marlena is not to blame for what happened… that she only wanted to protect Adora… that she did not plan to die. So why am I so angry at her?"

"Perhaps you are not," Duncan answered carefully, "Perhaps this anger of yours is directed at something bigger than Marlena, or Hordak and Skeletor, or even the Sorceress. Perhaps what you are angry at is… fate."

"Perhaps," Randor nodded slowly, "Though that is somehow worse."

"How so?"

"I cannot control it," the king answered, "and I cannot change it."

"You cannot change what has happened before," Duncan agreed, "and no man will ever be in absolute control of his own destiny, no more than he will ever be in control of another's. Your power, my friend, lies in how you respond to your destiny."

"Do you think so?"

"I do."

Randor turned and looked his friend in the eye.

"You are wrong on one count."

"Am I?"

"I can control what happens to Adam," the king stated firmly, "I can make sure that the creatures who took his sister and mother do not take him."

"You can try to protect him," Duncan answered, "but he, like everyone, will eventually have to make his own decisions… decisions that may, at times, put him in danger."

"You believe fate will determine the decisions he makes?"

"That, and his heritage. Randor, Adam is the son of a man who fought long and hard for his planet, and of a woman who remains the most skilled pilot- combat or otherwise- I have ever seen. His genetic makeup alone dictates that he will not be running from any fights."

"Then he must be prepared to defend himself."

"Yes."

"Very well," Randor looked back at his golden-haired son and nodded, "In a few years, he will begin physical training. Perhaps he and Teela can train together."

"It looks as if they have already begun."

Randor turned and saw that Adam and Teela had climbed out of the fountain and were now sparring with two medium-sized sticks. They danced around the garden, wet footprints marking the path of their mock-battle, shouts ringing through the enclosed space.

"I will vanquish you!"

"No, **I**will vanquish **you**!"

Both men grinned, and Randor felt his anger beginning to fade for the first time in six months. As the children continued to play, and their fathers laughed, Randor imagined that his wife was laughing with them.


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

Nothing ever changed in the Fright Zone. The same robot troopers guarded the corridors; the same voices screamed for mercy, their pleas barely audible to the auburn-haired woman and golden-haired little girl who routinely wandered the halls several stories above them.

It had been seven years since Queen Marlena first walked down the ebony corridors, cradling and comforting the infant girl in her arms even as both were marched into captivity. Now, that same girl traveled beside Marlena, holding her hand and humming contentedly to herself. Adora's hair was pulled back with a red ribbon, and she wore a red dress and black slippers. The little girl was definitely the more colorful of the two; Marlena's outfit consisted of a black tunic, black leggings that were cut off at the ankles, and the same thin slippers that her daughter wore. The only bright part of her attire was the strip of emerald cloth that held her hair back from her thin, pale face. Adora loved that ribbon, and would often entreat Marlena to switch with her.

"Christmas colors," Marlena had laughed on one occasion.

Adora had not understood, and Marlena could not explain it to her. There were so many things Marlena could not explain to Adora, so many truths she could not reveal, so many lies she had to tell. The worst lie- and the building block for years of deception- involved Adora's parentage.

At nine months, the child had uttered her first word: Mommy. Marlena was thrilled. Hordak was outraged. The girl who was to be his protégé could not have any ties to her former life. The obvious solution was to kill Marlena, yet Hordak knew that the obvious solution was not always the best one. Shadow Weaver was right, no one else was capable of caring for Adora… least of all Shadow Weaver herself. The witch was often impatient and ill tempered, and had proven herself a danger to Adora when she'd taken the screaming infant from her cradle and shaken her vigorously. She had done this as a lesson to Marlena on 'how to make little brats be quiet.' The Eternian queen had snatched Adora away before lashing out at the enchantress.

"Do not ever touch my child again!" Marlena had hissed, enraged.

Shadow Weaver was punished for her actions, which could have left Adora with severe brain damage, and Hordak had gone back to being wholly uninvolved in the child's care… until the day she said her first word. That day, he ranted and snorted and raved before issuing edicts: Marlena would teach Adora to refer to her in non-familial terms; Adora was never to know that Marlena was her mother; Adora was to be told only that her parents were dead; Marlena was not to provide Adora with any clues about her parentage or answer any questions that the child might have about her family. Hordak then did two things to ensure that his commands were followed. First, he threatened Adora with physical harm; he might be loath to kill the child, he said, but a few slaps and blows would not prevent Adora from being able to serve him. Secondly, he had monitoring devices installed in the cell, ensuring that Marlena was never truly alone with her daughter.

Marlena's heart wrenched when she was forced to put Hordak's commands into action, when she had to repeatedly correct how Adora addressed her ("Not Mommy. Marlena."), or tell the five year old that her parents had died immediately after she was born, or refuse to answer the increasing number of questions Adora had about her family ("What were their names?" "What were they like?" "Did they love me?"). Last week, while drifting off to sleep, the child had broken Marlena's heart yet again.

"Lena," Adora mumbled. The child had never been able to pronounce Marlena's name- something about the 'r' and the 'l' sound running together- and had instead made the last two syllables into a new moniker for the woman she knew only as her caregiver.

"Yes, Adora?"

"Could we sometimes pretend that you're my mother?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because it wouldn't be true," Marlena choked on the words.

"I know," Adora mumbled, her eyes closing, "That's why it's pretend."

Marlena sat on the edge of her daughter's cot long after the child fell asleep, pretending that the last seven years had never happened… that Hordak and Skeletor had never even entered the nursery that day… that she would awaken tomorrow not in this black cell that was only slightly larger than the last, but in her husband's arms; and she would watch the sun rise while Randor told her, in that calm, soothing way of his, that it had all been a nightmare brought on by the stress of war and childbirth…

Now, as she and Adora stepped into their cell, Marlena thought that she might not have to pretend for much longer. After five years of exploring the Fright Zone (on the auspices of providing Adora with much-needed exercise), and seven years of learning as much as possible about her captors, Marlena had formed an escape plan, one that depended upon two things: Hordak's miserly nature, and the solid gold rings dangling from a second green ribbon around Marlena's neck.

Three weeks ago, Marlena was walking Adora back from her lessons with a Horde tutor when she heard three human male voices. They were several corridors away, but they were so loud and angry that Marlena could make out every word.

"…Ridiculous. How are we supposed to live on what he pays us?"

"I've a mind to go up to him and…"

"You don't want to be doing that. Cerdic did, and he got sent to Lord Hordak himself, and we all know what happens when **he** has to settle wage disputes…"

"Is that what happened to Cerdic? Ancients, I heard him screaming for a week in the infirmary…"

The voices faded then, but it did not matter. Marlena had heard all she needed to hear. The next day, while she and Adora were on their daily walk, the queen watched discreetly for anyone who could be the unfortunate Cerdic. It had not been hard to find him, given that he was the only one of the humans who passed her who limped and grimaced in apparent pain; of course, it also helped that one of his comrades referred to him by name. Marlena had managed a glimpse into his eyes, and silently rejoiced at the bitterness there. She was certain that Cerdic could be bribed into helping her and Adora escape.

Though she saw the man several times after that, Marlena was never able to get him alone. Either Adora was with her, or he was with other guards. Instead of panicking, Marlena used the time to further develop her plan. She knew that Hordak was not in complete control of whatever planet they were on, but she did not know anything else about this world. She had never been outside the halls of the Fright Zone, had never even looked out a window in the last seven years. Hordak forbade it. Still, Marlena was certain that there would be people willing to help them, or at least a place for them to hide. She did not know how she and Adora would get back to Eternia, but that did not matter. The important thing was that they would be safe from Hordak until someone from Eternia found them; and, once they were out of Hordak's reach, Marlena could tell Adora the truth about her family.

Marlena was quiet as she walked with Adora to the washroom down the hall. As both captives washed their faces and brushed their teeth, Marlena continued her silent plotting. Twice this week, while walking Adora to her lessons, she had found the man named Cerdic alone, leaning against the wall, shoving some sort of black fruit into his mouth and muttering to himself. He was there the same time every morning, and tomorrow Marlena planned to take Adora to her lessons early so that she could catch Cerdic on her way back, alone.

Back in their cell, Marlena and Adora changed into the thin white shifts that served as nightgowns. Adora pulled the ribbon out of her hair and let it fall to the cold marble floor before climbing onto her cot. Unlike the cell where they had spent their first year of captivity, this cell had two cots, arranged in an "L" shape in the far left corner of the room and covered with two black blankets each.

"Goodnight, Lena." Adora mumbled sleepily.

"Goodnight, Adora," Marlena pulled the blankets over the girl's thin shoulders and stroked a strand of hair away from her face, "Sleep well."

She stood and watched Adora fall asleep until the lights went out, then climbed onto her own cot and slid under the blankets. She rested her head on the thin pillow- another improvement over the last cell-, slipped the two gold rings out from under her shift, and rubbed her thumb across the Eternian crest etched into the larger of the rings. As she fell asleep, Marlena imagined that the ring grew warmer from the hope and prayers she rubbed into it.

She was awakened several hours later by a light shining in her eyes. She shielded her eyes with one arm before opening them. The cell door was open, and the light in Marlena's eyes was from the hallway. She sat up and looked toward Adora's cot; the child was not there. Marlena was not concerned. Adora usually got up during the night to use the toilet in the washroom; she would be back in a few minutes.

Marlena was just about to lie back down when a child's scream pierced the night. The woman leapt off the cot and ran out into the corridor, heart pounding in her ears. There was only one child in the Fright Zone…

"Adora!"

After yelling her daughter's name, Marlena stood very still and listened. The silence seemed to stretch on forever, and she was about to call out again when she heard the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. A second later, Adora rounded the corner and hurled herself at Marlena, screaming and crying and clinging to the woman's waist. Marlena knelt down, wrapped her arms around Adora, and gently pulled the child's head to her shoulder, rocking back and forth and murmuring soothingly even as the metal grating cut into her knees.

Adora was still screaming when a second set of footsteps reverberated through the halls. Marlena looked up to see Hordak and Shadow Weaver approaching them, flanked by four robot troopers and a man Marlena recognized as Hordak's chief physician. Adora heard them, too, and began screaming even louder than before.

"THEY HURT THAT MAN!" she shrieked into Marlena's shoulder, "THEY HURT HIM, LENA! HE'S BLEEDING! WE HAVE TO HELP HIM! HE'S BLEEDING!"

"We knew this day would come, my lord," Shadow Weaver rasped, "It is time to cast the spell, to put her completely under your control."

Marlena lifted Adora into her arms, stood, and began backing away, knowing even as she did so that escape was impossible. The troopers surrounded them in an instant and commenced pulling Adora away from Marlena. The child continued shrieking and clinging, her fingers burrowing into her mother's back as she tried desperately to hold on. While two troopers continued to pull at Adora, the other two tried to loosen Marlena's grip by pulling her fingers back, causing the woman to scream in pain and rage.

"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH HER!"

"There is an easier way to do this," the oily voice of the physician said.

He held up a syringe and showed it to Marlena before grabbing her left forearm and jabbing the needle into the bend of her elbow.

"Time to sleep," the physician hissed.

"NO!"

A second after the drug entered her bloodstream, Marlena's arms went numb and dropped uselessly to her sides, allowing the troopers to pull Adora away. The screaming girl was carried away by two of the troopers, following Hordak and Shadow Weaver. Marlena tried to run after them, but her knees buckled and she fell to the ground. Darkness was crashing over her like waves on a beach, and she was only vaguely aware of being lifted up and carried back into the cell, where she was dropped onto her cot. She tried to scream, but could barely move her lips. A last wave washed over her, and Marlena drowned in the darkness…

She dreamt that she was trapped in a small, dark place. Her husband's voice echoed above her, but she could not understand what he was saying, and knew that he could not hear her screams…

Her first thought upon awakening was that she was being watched. Her second thought was of Adora. The world tilted wildly as she sat straight up and looked toward the door, toward her watchers: Hordak, Shadow Weaver… and her daughter, dressed now in a black body suit with a red bat across the chest, and black boots.

"You're awake," Adora said cheerfully, "I wondered when you would be. Guess what, Lena? I start training today, and one day I'll be a soldier for Horde Prime."

The child continued talking about what an honor it was to serve the Horde, but all Marlena could hear was Shadow Weaver's raspy voice in her head… "it is time to cast the spell…"

The trio left soon after. Marlena waited until their footsteps faded completely away; then, she fell to her knees and started screaming.


	5. Chapter Five

Author's notes: Thanks to Abby82 for reviewing the first few chapters. I hope everyone is enjoying this. Feedback is greatly appreciated :-)

**Chapter Five**

After reading the same document three times without absorbing a single word, King Randor decided that it was time for a break. His assistant made noises of surprise when the king strode past him and out of the office but had enough sense not to follow.

Randor made his way to one of the smaller of the palace gardens, where he knew his son would be finishing his lessons for the day. A group of children raced past him; Adam was not among them. Randor found the boy in a far corner of the garden, his back to the entrance, on his knees and talking to the base of a tall tree.

"C'mon, Cringer. You can come out now. They're all gone."

"Is he still nervous?"

"Hi, Father," Adam turned and smiled up at his parent, then frowned, "I tried to tell him that the other kids aren't gonna hurt him, but he ran back here anyway."

"Th-there's just so m-m-many of them!" A tiny voice stuttered.

Randor looked around the tree and fought to keep from laughing. A small, green tiger cub peered back at him; but where all other members of his species would have hissed or growled at the man, the tiger aptly named Cringer trembled violently and backed even further into the corner.

"Come on out, Cringer," Randor gently commanded, "Adam's right, everyone else is gone. I saw them leave."

It took a little more coaxing from father and son for Cringer to creep out of the corner, around the tree, and finally into Adam's arms.

"How were your lessons today?" Randor asked once the trio had settled onto a stone bench, Cringer purring contentedly as Adam scratched gently behind the cat's ears.

"Good. We learned about the reign of King Tamask."

"That was a long time ago."

"Yeah. Was he one of our ancestors?"

"I'm not sure. He might be. We can try to find out, if you want."

Adam nodded and chewed his lower lip for a moment before speaking again.

"We have to do a family history."

"Not up to the time of King Tamask, I hope?"

"No, just to our great-grandparents," he looked up at his father and frowned, "On both sides."

"Oh. Well, that should be easy."

"Really?"

"Sure," Randor smiled reassuringly at the child, "Your mother did tell me a few details about her family… enough to get you through this assignment, at least."

"You don't mind?"

"Why should I mind? You know that you can ask me anything about your mother, don't you?"

Adam looked down at his hands, his brow furrowed.

"Don't you?" Randor repeated gently.

"Did I kill her?"

"What?"

"You said she died soon after I was born. Did she die **because** I was born?"

"Oh, Adam!" Randor dragged a hand across his bearded chin and took several deep breaths. "Adam, look at me."

The boy slowly raised large blue eyes to his father's face.

"Your mother did not die in childbirth. Right after you were born, some bad people tried to hurt you, and your mother died making sure that they did not succeed."

"Oh." Adam thought about that for a moment. "So I **did **kill her."

"No!" Randor placed both hands on his child's shoulders and looked into his face. "You are not to blame for your mother's death, Adam. It's just instinct for a parent to protect their child from harm, and that's what your mother did."

"Will the bad people come back?"

"I do not know," Randor answered truthfully, "I hope not."

"What if they do? What if you die, like my mother died?"

"Where is all this coming from, son?"

Adam shrugged. "I've been thinking about it for awhile, I guess."

"Well, I don't plan on dying anytime soon, I assure you. So there's no need for you to worry about it anymore. Alright?"

"Okay."

Adam grinned up at his father, his face brightening like the sun peeking out from behind a dark cloud.

"Good," Randor tousled the boy's hair, "Now, don't you need to get ready for training."

Adam wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Do I hafta?" he groaned.

"We talked about this before, remember? All boys start physical training at your age. I did. Don't you want to learn to fight, to defend yourself?"

"I guess." Adam mumbled.

"Well, you had better hurry, then. You don't want to be late, do you?"

"No. Hey, can we work on my family history after dinner?"

"Sure."

"Good. C'mon, Cringer," Adam tapped his pet lightly on the head, "Time for lessons."

"M-M-More?"

Adam placed the cat on the ground, stood, and embraced his father tightly before exiting the garden, Cringer close on his heels. Randor knew he should return to his office- the thirty-odd documents on his desk were not going to read themselves, after all- but was reluctant to do so. Perhaps he would go watch Adam at practice. Randor smiled at the thought. Every moment spent with his son, watching him grow, was precious.

Randor's mother, Queen Ailsa, had died in the winter of his eighth year, taken by an illness that swept through Eternos like a plague. Many died during that long, cold season; Randor himself fell gravely ill, and spent weeks in the infirmary alongside his brothers, Keldor and Stephan. Though more than twenty years had passed since that time, Randor could still remember his mother hovering over him, her hands cool against his flushed face, her voice soft as she read and sang to her sons. She spent several hours a day with the boys, but was also gone for long periods of time.

"Where do you go when you leave us?" Randor finally asked.

"To take care of others who are sick."

"Why?"

"Because I am the queen," she answered gravely, "and the mother of my people. Just as I care for you, so also must I care for them. But I will always come back to you, my son."

One day his mother did not come. That day stretched into a week, then two. Their father also did not make an appearance. By the end of the second week, all three princes were recovered enough to realize that something was wrong. The healers who came to see them refused to answer their questions, and they were forbidden from leaving the infirmary. Finally, Mendol, the chief healer for the Royal Family, sat the boys down and told them that their mother was dead. Stephan, six, began to cry. Keldor, seven, stormed out of the room; no one even tried to stop him. Randor stared out the window, where the wind howled and a storm raged.

The funeral service and burial were a blur, as were the months following Queen Ailsa's death. Randor's father, King Miro, buried himself in his work. The young princes rarely saw their father, and the few times they did were awkward affairs indeed. The boys wanted to talk about their mother, share their happy memories of her; their father did not, and his sons did not wish to displease him. Soon King Miro ended any emotional involvement in his sons' lives, acting more as their king than as their father. The boys' upbringing was left to tutors and palace servants; the only exception to this was Randor who, as the eldest son, would one day take his father's place as King of all Eternia. As Randor grew older, his father took a slightly more active role in his education, allowing his son to attend council meetings and peace agreements, as well as accompany King Miro on visits to other parts of the planet. Though his father never confided in him anything that did not pertain to the business of being king, Randor enjoyed the increasing amount of time the two spent together, and vowed to make King Miro proud.

Randor's brothers reacted in different ways. Stephan, the most easygoing of the three, took the situation in stride. He loved his father and would like to have spent more time with him, but was resigned to the situation at hand. Keldor, however, grew increasingly jealous of his older brother, and made his feelings known on many occasions. He alternated between feigned indifference- "I don't need Father, anyway!"- and unadulterated spite- "He doesn't really love you, either. He just spends time with you because you're the oldest!" That last remark might have actually hurt Randor if it had not been something he already knew.

In the end, Keldor's bitterness and rage drove him to self-isolation, dark magic, and Hordak. He disappeared, followed shortly by King Miro, only to reappear as Skeletor, bringer of devastation and despair. Skeletor had not been seen since the day, ten years ago, when he accompanied Hordak to the Royal Nursery. King Miro had yet to be found.

Randor loved his father, and missed him greatly, but he did not regard the man Miro had become after Ailsa's death as a role model for good parenting. He wished his father had remained involved in the lives of Keldor and Stephan, and he wished for some assurance that Miro had loved him for more than just his status as heir to the throne. He found it hard to understand how Miro could have abandoned his children, and had vowed long ago to never detach himself from any children he might father.

He had kept that promise, too, and intended to remain involved in every aspect of Adam's life. He did this not only because it was what he felt a good father should do, but also because he genuinely enjoyed spending time with his son. The child was witty, intelligent, kind, compassionate… the list went on and on. Adam was his own person, of course, but there were times when he would tilt his head a certain way, or smile, and look so much like Marlena that it would take Randor's breath away. Was this why King Miro could not bear to be around his sons? That, Randor had long ago surmised, was the difference between him and his father. Miro had seen his children as a painful reminder of what he had lost, while Randor saw his son as a joyful reminder of what he'd had once, and what he had now. Marlena had been a remarkable woman with whom Randor had been fortunate enough to wed and create life. Adam was a direct result of Randor and Marlena's deep and abiding love for one another. Randor rejoiced in the knowledge that some part of his beloved wife lived on in their son, and hoped the same could be said for their daughter, wherever she might be.

"Sire?"

Randor turned to find Duncan standing just inside the garden entrance, watching him carefully.

"Yes, Duncan?"

The other man approached the bench as Randor stood.

"Your assistant has expressed some concern as to your whereabouts."

"Oh. Well, I was talking with Adam."

Duncan looked pointedly around the otherwise empty garden.

"Earlier," Randor sighed, "I was talking with Adam earlier about his lessons. By the way, just to forewarn you, everyone in Adam and Teela's class has to do a personal family history."

"Are you kidding me?"

"I'm afraid not."

It was now Duncan's turn to sigh.

"She's not going to be able to do it," he said, "She's just not, and that's all there is to it. I guess I'll have to talk with her tutor tomorrow."

"Might I ask you something, Duncan?"

"Yes." Duncan answered warily. He had already explained once to Randor that he could not reveal Teela's parentage to anyone, and he did not think that his friend would ask again, but one never knew.

"Does Teela know that you know exactly who her parents are?"

"No."

"Why? Surely it's come up in conversation."

"I've told her I do not know."

"You've lied to her, as I've lied to Adam. Tell me, Duncan, do you think our children will ever forgive us the lies we've told?"

"I do not know, my friend." Duncan answered honestly.

Randor thought about his son, about the little girl and cowardly tiger who both routinely took the place of a sister Adam did not even know existed, and sighed.

"Neither do I."


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

The Sorceress of Grayskull sat rigidly on her throne, fingers gripping ancient stone, eyes closed in deep meditation.

Tonight marked the second time in thirteen years that the Sorceress had made any sort of psychic connection with Princess Adora, and she was trying to hold the link for as long as possible. The first time this had happened, Adora would have been seven years old. The connection had lasted for less than ten minutes, and the Sorceress was never sure exactly what had caused it, or what was happening to Adora during that time. All she knew for certain was that the child's innocence had been shattered and her mind turned toward the forces of evil. That a spell of compulsion had been cast on the child did not surprise the Sorceress; Adora was, after all, a daughter of Grayskull, and an inherently noble person. Hordak would have found it nearly impossible to bend the girl's will without the use of magic. What, the Sorceress often wondered, had made Hordak order the spell cast? What had Adora seen, discovered? These were questions that remained unanswered- the link was not strong enough to help the Sorceress locate Adora.

Neither was this link, yet it was entirely different from the last. The Sorceress could sense Adora's fear, just as she had six years ago, but the reason for her fear was not the same as it had been then. Before, Adora was scared for someone else; now she was scared for herself.

The doors to the throne room blew open then, and a wind wholly supernatural in origin whistled through the room. The Sorceress did not open her eyes. The wind hit her full force, bringing with it the realization of what was happening to Adora. The woman shivered violently and tried to speak to the girl, to calm her, but to no avail. Adora had not been trying for a psychic connection, and was clearly unaware that one had been made.

The Sorceress opened her eyes, ascended from her throne, and walked to an eastward-facing window. She lifted her head to the black, starry heavens, clasped her hands tightly in front of her, and began to softly chant. She would stay in this position for a long time, trying to prevent that which had never been prophesized.

Adora was dying, long before her destiny was fulfilled.

* * *

Adora staggered down dark, familiar halls, teeth chattering and body violently trembling. She wondered if it had always been this cold in the Fright Zone, then realized that the chill was coming from within her. Her strong legs quivered under her, fatigued from traveling a route that had never before left her struggling for breath. Normally she would have been mortified at the thought of anyone seeing her so weak; now, she could only hope that someone would see her, help her. She was so scared.

Something was terribly wrong, and Adora knew it had to do with the large gash on her side. The wound had been dealt during a particularly rigorous training session two weeks ago. The physician assigned to the Horde training facility- a squat, filthy man called Drikken- had hastily applied stitches to the cut. Adora remembered how his dirty fingers had soiled her skin, the needle, and the thread used to suture the wound. The teenager did not know much about medicine or healing, but she did know that wounds should be kept clean, and had tried to apply that knowledge to her own cut. There was little time to do so, though. Soldiers-in-training like Adora were kept busy from morning to night, with barely enough time to eat or sleep. Adora herself was held to an even higher standard than the rest. She did not know it, but General Tarza was under strict orders from Hordak himself to turn Adora into a fighting machine. The man's life depended on it, in fact, so he was not at all inclined to allow the injured girl time to heal from what he surmised to be a mere flesh wound.

"You are going to be a soldier!" he roared at the girl when she asked to go to the main infirmary. "A soldier does not stop fighting because of one little cut!" He pinned Adora against the wall and leaned forward, his hot breath burning her face. "A soldier does not stop fighting until he is dead!"

Adora did not dare ask again to leave the facility; instead, she held her head high and her tears firmly in check, and continued her training. Even now, certain as she was that she was deathly ill, Adora refused to cry, and her lips quivered as she fought to keep from moaning. Though she looked straight ahead, Adora was only dimly aware of her surroundings; she knew robot troopers guarded the halls only because that was the way it had always been in the Fright Zone. She did not know how close she was to the infirmary, or if she was even going the right way, and she was afraid that General Tarza would find her and drag her back to the training facility.

A light flickered at the end of the long corridor, like a beacon, and Adora stumbled toward it. She was halfway there when her knees buckled and she fell to the floor. She tried to stand up, but her legs refused to support her. She began crawling down the hall, swallowing back screams of pain as the grating dug into her hands. Everything was starting to spin at a nauseating speed, and Adora closed her eyes. She thought she heard someone call her name, and tried to crawl faster, toward the sound. The grating vibrated under her, and Adora lifted her head and forced her eyes open.

A woman knelt before her. Shadows clouded Adora's vision, but she could make out a pale, worried face and auburn hair. She knew who the woman must be, and managed to stammer out a name before succumbing to the shadows.

* * *

The sun shone brightly in the Eternian sky when the Sorceress finally opened her eyes and moved away from the window. She slumped into her throne, exhausted in both body and mind. Yet sleep was impossible, so she stared blankly into the room and hoped that Adora could somehow pull herself from Death's embrace. She would have to, for the Sorceress could do nothing.

* * *

Marlena held Adora's cold hands in her own, chafing them, trying to rub warmth back into the slender fingers. She could feel eyes boring into her back, but paid them no mind. All fear she felt was reserved for her daughter.

Bridden had recently mentioned that Adora had been in her present condition for a week. Marlena had to take his word for that, since time had long ceased to exist for her. All she knew was that Adora was being taken from her, again.

Voices rose and fell behind her: Bridden, whining that he had done all he could for the girl; Shadow Weaver, explaining that her extensive powers did not include the ability to heal; Hordak, snorting and threatening to kill them both if Adora died.

Suddenly, strong fingers clamped down on the back of Marlena's neck, and Hordak hissed in her ear, "You are nothing to me without your daughter!" Marlena turned and stared at him, bleary-eyed and impassive. Did he not understand, did none of them understand, that life without her daughter held no meaning?

Hordak released her and stormed out of the room, followed closely by Shadow Weaver. Bridden proceeded to take his frustration out on an injured slave, and screams soon filled the room.

Marlena winced. Her mother, a nurse, once told her that hearing was the last sense to leave a dying person. She knew from personal experience that this was true. She had been critically injured during her crash-landing on Eternia, and it was Randor's voice and kind words that made her want to live. Though she never actually understood what the voice was saying, the fact that someone was at her side had meant the world to Marlena, and she could remember being eager to meet the person who obviously cared so much about whether she lived or died. She could not imagine that Adora would be anxious to return to a world filled with screaming voices.

Marlena slipped from the edge of the cot and moved so that she was standing over Adora's head, then knelt down on the cold marble. She cupped one hand over one of Adora's ears, the one closest to the source of the screams, ensuring that hers was the only voice Adora heard. She then leaned forward until her forehead was mere inches away from her daughter's, placed her other hand lightly on the top of Adora's head, and began to speak.

* * *

There was no other world beyond this cold, dark place; Adora wondered if there ever had been. It seemed as if she had always been here, kneeling in the darkness, deprived of warmth and light.

She was alone. Sometimes she thought she glimpsed shadowy figures in the distance, and sometimes she imagined they beckoned her to join them, but Adora was reluctant to do so. Something about the figures scared her, and she somehow knew that she was better off staying where she was…

Now the shadow creatures were advancing upon her, coming ever closer. Adora knew they wished to carry her away to their realm, but she was unafraid. The voice would hold them at bay…

At first, the words being spoken held no meaning for Adora, slipping from her comprehension like water through her fingers. She did not know where the voice was coming from, only that it somehow formed a barrier between her and the shadow creatures. Soon she began to sense differences in the voice: sometimes it hummed, sometimes it sang unfamiliar melodies, but mostly it talked in soothing tones.

Now the shadow creatures were retreating, and now Adora understood exactly what the voice was saying: _I love you, Adora._ _Wake up. Live, my child. Come back to me._

The voice was moving away now. Adora stood and followed it, listening for the sweet sound, the loving words. As she ran, faint light illuminated her path, and gentle heat thawed her limbs. The light was brighter now, the voice closer, and Adora plunged headfirst toward both sound and light. She understood now. The light was life, and the voice belonged to someone who loved her, who was waiting for her.

Her mother.

* * *

Marlena was adjusting the blankets around Adora's wasted body when her daughter began to moan. She sank down to the edge of Adora's cot and began to stroke her hair.

"Wake up, Adora," she murmured soothingly, "Open your eyes."

Adora's fever had finally broken three hours ago, bringing an end to almost two weeks of illness. It was time for her to awaken; to, as Marlena's mother might have said, 'join the land of the living.'

Marlena continued to talk softly, and soon Adora's cerulean eyes fluttered open. She moaned, then spoke.

"Lena?"

It came out a parched whisper. Marlena hastily poured water into a cup and held it to Adora's lips. The teenager slowly swallowed the liquid, her eyes intent on Marlena's face as she did so. Once the cup was completely drained, Marlena put it aside and took Adora's hands into her own.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired." Adora whispered weakly. "Am I in the infirmary?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"You had an infection and high fever."

"How long have I been here?"

"Twelve days."

"Twelve days!" Adora repeated, horror momentarily strengthening her voice. "General Tarza must be so angry at me!"

"The esteemed general" Marlena said acidly, "has no one to blame but himself for your prolonged absence. He should have sent you **here** as soon as you were wounded, not to some second-rate physician who obviously has not bathed in twenty years!"

Adora smiled faintly, clearly amused by the accurate assessment of Drikken. Then she frowned.

"Lena?"

"Yes?"

"Something happened when I was sick, something I don't quite understand."

"What is it, Adora?" Marlena said gently. "What happened?"

"There was this voice," Adora began, "a kind, gentle voice that hummed and sang and spoke to me. It kept me safe, kept the monsters away."

"Oh?"

"It was a woman's voice. She said that she loved me, and told me to wake up and live. Lena," Adora's voice dropped to a whisper, "the woman was my mother. Please don't ask me how I know that, but I do."

It took Marlena several moments to respond.

"That's not so unusual, Adora," she said gently, "Many believe that the dead do speak to us when we are at our most vulnerable."

"That's just it, Lena!" Adora's voice rose in excitement. "Right before I woke up, I was running toward a light. The voice… my mother… was leading me to it, and as I entered the light I just knew that my mother would be on the other side, waiting for me. But she wasn't, Lena. She's not here."

Marlena bit her lip to keep from screaming, _She's right here!_ _I'm right here! _

Adora was watching Marlena, waiting for a response. There were no other patients in the infirmary, and Bridden had left soon after Adora's fever broke. There were also no monitoring devices in the infirmary. For the first time in thirteen years, Marlena was truly alone with her daughter.

Now was her chance to tell Adora the truth, to push through and break Shadow Weaver's spell. Illness and fever had left the girl mentally vulnerable, and she already half-believed that her mother was alive. Though this had not been Marlena's intent when talking to her ill daughter, she saw now that it would work to her advantage. She could tell Adora the truth about her family, her origins. Adora was thirteen years old, certainly old enough and wise enough to understand the importance of keeping such a secret.

It would take Adora a week or more to recover from her illness, time Marlena could spend planning an escape. She still had her two gold rings, and there were always guards who could be bribed. She had no doubt that Adora herself would agree to the escape, once she understood that Marlena was her mother and Hordak, evil incarnate. With a lot of planning, bribery,and just the perfect timing, mother and daughter could finally be free.

_This is it, your only chance. _Marlena thought as adrenaline coursed through her veins, replacing the fatigue of the last twelve days. _Tell her now!_

"Adora…"

The girl's eyes widened and held, staring at something behind Marlena. The imprisoned queen closed her eyes and sighed softly. She did not even turn around as a raspy voice said,

"Ah, Adora. I see you've finally decided to awaken."

Marlena mentally cringed when a second voice snorted,

"We were so worried."

"You're not angry with me?"

"Angry?" Hordak stepped around the cot and settled on the other side of Adora, Shadow Weaver standing behind him. "At you? Why, no, child. You could not help being ill."

"Is General Tarza angry?"

"General Tarza is no longer in any position to reprimand you."

"Oh."

Adora looked at Marlena, then down at her hands, clearly uncomfortable with Hordak's last remark.

"Lord Hordak," Shadow Weaver said, "I believe we might have interrupted a conversation with our entrance."

Marlena lifted her head and glared up at the witch.

"You were just about to explain something to Adora."

"Possibly." Marlena feigned ignorance. "I do not remember."

Shadow Weaver reached out and stroked Adora's hair. Her fingers, dancing over the blonde tresses, began to glow.

"Something about her mother, I believe."

Marlena's stomach twisted at the implied threat. She wanted to scream, _Take your hands off my child!_ Instead, she turned to Adora and gently said,

" I've told you before, Adora: your mother is dead. She died when you were born. Whatever you think you heard while unconscious was only a fever-induced hallucination, and best forgotten."

"Liar!" Adora hissed. "I felt her!"

Shadow Weaver's fingers glowed brighter.

"Whatever you felt…"

"I should never have told you! You're only trying to hurt me!"

"I'm only trying to help you." Marlena choked out.

Shadow Weaver removed her hand from Adora's hair, her fingers now back to their normal color.

"Now you've gotten the poor girl all excited," she rasped, "and we certainly don't want her getting sick again. Perhaps you should leave."

"Yes." Hordak smiled menacingly. "Leave."

Marlena looked at her daughter. Adora glared back, hurt and anger darkening her eyes.

"Goodbye, Adora." Marlena stood and tried to stroke Adora's hair. The girl turned her face away. "I'm happy you're feeling better."

Tears burned behind Marlena's eyes, but she refused to appear weak before her captors. Instead, she walked briskly out of the room, then hurried down the corridors to her cell. She closed the door, fell onto her cot, and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Deep inside Castle Grayskull, a warm breeze washed over the meditating Sorceress. She opened her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. The link to Adora had long since dissipated, but the supernatural wave of warmth conveyed to her that which she had longed to know.

Princess Adora was still alive.


	7. Chapter Seven

Author's Notes: I apologize for the long absence. I recently- and finally- found a job, and it's taken up a great deal of my time. Not to fear, though: I've finally mastered the art of writing and riding the Metro at the same time, so the updates should be a bit more frequent now.

As always, comments are greatly appreciated.

**Chapter Seven**

Prince Adam had long anticipated the day of his sixteenth birthday, when he would be considered an adult by Eternian law. He had spent the past year imagining what the day would bring: a celebration, most likely followed by a speech from his father confirming Adam as the heir to the throne. Adam had yet to determine why his father felt the need to state the blatantly obvious. Of course he was Randor's heir. Who else would be?

Adam had a fairly active imagination about most things, and the matter of his birthday was certainly no exception. On Eternia, a person's passage into adulthood was regarded as an almost sacred event. Childhood was over, and a world of possibilities was just beginning. Adam envisioned a great many wonderful scenarios; his favorite was the one where he finally found the courage to ask Teela for a dance, or a stroll through the gardens, or some such thing.

Of all the things Adam imagined, not one involved standing in the throne room of Castle Grayskull. Yet there he was, trying not to squirm under the scrutinizing gaze of Eternia's most powerful enchantress. Adam was not scared, exactly. After all, his father had visited with the Sorceress on occasion, and always emerged unscathed. Adam knew that Randor held the Sorceress in high regard, as did Duncan.

Adam stole a glance at his mentor, searching for some clue as to why the older man had brought him to this place. Duncan had told him next to nothing on the journey there. Now his face was devoid of all emotion, his gaze intent upon their hostess.

The prince looked back at the throne and at the woman who had summoned them. Her costume, a short tunic of white feathers and a headdress that mimicked the face of a falcon, struck Adam as odd. He wondered what the connection was between this woman and the bird she was obviously meant to resemble.

"Prince Adam." The Sorceress finally spoke, breaking the solemn silence.

Adam was not entirely sure how to respond. How was one to address the guardian of all things mystical? One thing was certain: the Sorceress was a queen in her own right, and should be treated as such.

"My lady," he said, and bowed deeply. He stared at the floor while the Sorceress rose from her throne and came to stand before him. She studied him for a moment before placing cool fingers under his chin and gently guiding his gaze to her face.

"I have long awaited this day," she murmured softly.

Adam could not help but stare back at her, confused. What day? The day he turned sixteen? The day he came to Grayskull?

"Both." The Sorceress said suddenly.

Adam's eyes widened. Had the woman just read his mind?

"I have awaited both days," the Sorceress continued, "because they are one and the same, as they were meant to be. You were destined to come here on the day you became an adult, and you were destined to become an adult on the day you came here. And, yes," she smiled faintly, "I do possess psychic abilities."

Adam gulped. He would like to have looked away at that point, but found himself unable to do so. Instead, he stood still as stone while the Sorceress continued to speak.

"I have heard many good things about you, Prince Adam, and I see now that they are all true. Your mother would be very proud. I know your father is."

"You knew my mother?" Adam asked, curiosity momentarily overcoming his nervousness. He thought he saw something like sadness flash across the Sorceress's face as she answered simply,

"Yes."

"And my father talks about me?"

"All the time. He tells me that you are kind, and intelligent, and brave."

"My father thinks I am brave?"

"Oh, yes," the Sorceress smiled briefly, then frowned, "Although he might not think so for much longer."

"Why is that, my lady?" Adam asked, his trepidation renewed.

"Do you know why you have been brought here, Adam?"

"No, my lady," Adam answered with a sideways glance at Duncan, "Man-at-Arms has told me nothing."

"My thanks, Duncan," the Sorceress said. Duncan nodded, but said nothing. The Sorceress turned back to Adam; her eyes narrowed and she regarded her young guest for a moment before asking,

"Do you believe in destiny, Adam?"

"Of course, my lady." The prince answered immediately. "Doesn't everyone?"

"Believing in destiny is one thing, Adam," the Sorceress murmured, "Accepting one's own is something else entirely. Do you understand?"

"I… I think so, my lady."

"And are you ready to follow _your_ destiny, young prince?"

Adam looked into the face of the enchantress, trying to see past the impassive mask. He wondered how long she had been the keeper of this castle, and how many people she had summoned to the ancient chambers. What had her purpose been in those cases? What were her intentions now? She was, Adam realized, a woman who could change lives. How did she mean to change his?

Next Adam looked at Duncan. The older man met his gaze, unafraid and unashamed. He had been Adam's mentor for as long as the prince could remember, teaching him everything there was to know about life. Now that Adam thought about it, it seemed as if Duncan had gone out of his way to mentor him. Why was that? Certainly there were tutors aplenty at the palace, and it was not as if Duncan did not have a child of his own. Had Adam and Teela been raised together, almost as brother and sister, so that Duncan could have easy access to Adam? How long had it been planned, this meeting between Adam and the Sorceress?

Adam looked out the window, at the sky, as if the answers to his questions lay just beyond the setting sun. Yet they did not, and he knew it. The answer to everything- even to questions Adam had yet to ask himself- lay in these ruins, perhaps in this very room. He thought about what the Sorceress had told him so far, and about how Randor thought he was brave. Was he brave enough to learn the answers to his questions? Was he brave enough to learn his destiny?

"Yes," Adam whispered, his voice voluminous in the silent room. He felt eyes on him, and turned to find both the Sorceress and Duncan watching him, waiting. He took a deep breath and looked straight at the Sorceress.

"Yes, my lady." His voice was so strong, so confident, that he wondered how it could possibly be his own. "I am ready."

The Sorceress nodded, squared her feathered shoulders, and turned from them both.

"Come, Prince Adam," she said as she strode toward the door, "It is time to set foot on the path of your destiny."

* * *

Adora hurried down the hall, forehead creased in consternation. She could not imagine why Hordak wanted to see her, but she knew that he hated to be kept waiting; so she had set off for his chambers immediately after receiving the summons, even though it meant abandoning a training session. She hoped that Hordak's messenger would explain the situation to General Morden.

The throne room door loomed just ahead, and Adora all but ran toward it, cursing herself even as she quickened her pace. She hated how frantic she must look to the other Horde members she passed, even though most were robot troopers. She finally reached the door, where she took several deep breaths before knocking three times. Less than a second passed before the door was opened from within. Adora squared her shoulders and stepped inside.

Hordak's throne room, like all living and meeting quarters in the Fright Zone, was constructed of solid black marble. A ribbon of blood red carpet ran from the doorway to the dais, stopping at the foot of Hordak's ebony throne. Torches along the walls provided the only light in the room; there were no windows, and the door always remained closed. It was, Adora often thought, like another world, one she had only entered once or twice before; and nervous though she was, Adora felt a sense of pride at being allowed to enter Hordak's private sanctum.

Hordak himself sat regally on his throne, crimson eyes intent on Adora. Shadow Weaver stood beside him, and Adora suppressed a shudder. Something about the enchantress had always frightened her… Another woman stood at the bottom of the dais. She was staring at a point across the room when Adora entered, but now she looked at the younger woman and smiled faintly. Adora recognized her instantly and frowned. Why was Lena here?

Adora's stomach twisted, and she fairly flushed with guilt. She was often ashamed of how she had treated her former caregiver, and knew she should apologize. Lena had, after all, only spoken the truth when she said that Adora's mother was dead- certainly she remained absent in all save Adora's dreams. Even when Adora left all other childish things behind, the memory of her mother's voice lingered, refreshing her like an errant breeze on a hot summer's day. To admit aloud the truth of Lena's words would be to leave that voice behind, and Adora did not know if she was strong enough to do that.

This, she knew, was why she had gone out of her way to avoid Lena. The few times they did cross paths left Adora reeling from the memory of the weakness she had displayed in front of the other woman. Even now, three years after the fact, Adora felt almost queasy with shame and self-loathing. She stole a glance at Lena and found that the woman was staring intently back at her. Their eyes met, and Lena smiled gently. Adora felt herself beginning to smile back. Was it possible that Lena forgave her, or that (even better!) she had simply forgotten the incident?

"Adora, my dear," Hordak snorted, "Welcome."

Adora tore her gaze from Lena and bowed deeply.

"Lord Hordak," she murmured to the floor, "I am at your service."

"Arise, my dear."

Adora obeyed, and Hordak stood and descended the dais, coming to stand before her. Adora thought she heard Lena draw a sharp breath, but did not dare look toward her. Instead, she lowered her gaze respectfully to the floor.

"I understand that today is your birthday." Hordak said.

"Yes, my lord."

"Sixteen years old," Shadow Weaver rasped, "Quite the young lady."

"Yes," Hordak agreed, "Quite."

He gave his chin several thoughtful strokes before speaking again.

"I have a gift for you."

Adora looked up at him, surprised. Though Hordak had always been kind to her, he had never before presented her with a gift. He smiled at her, showing small, white teeth.

"Well? Don't you want to know what it is?"

"Yes, my lord."

"I wish I could show it to you, but it is not here." He looked at Adora expectantly, clearly waiting for a response.

"Where might I find it?" she asked carefully.

"In the stables, waiting to meet his new owner."

Adora's eyes narrowed, then widened as she gasped in surprise and delight,

"A horse? You got me a horse?"

Hordak nodded and snorted, obviously pleased by her response.

"Thank you so much… I mean," here Adora stopped, aware that she was dangerously close to babbling like an idiot. She took a calming breath and murmured, "My lord is too kind."

"Do not think of it as just a kindness, my dear. After all," he paused, and Adora thought she saw his eyes glow more brightly in their sockets, "a force captain needs a good steed."

"A force captain?" Adora repeated, confused. "But, I'm not…" Then the full meaning of Hordak's words hit her, and she barely managed to keep her jaw from dropping.

"Yes, my dear." Hordak said. "And it might interest you to know that you will be the youngest Force Captain in the history of the Horde… if you think you are ready to be."

Adora recognized the look of scrutiny on his face and understood that she must take care with her response. She knew that many a Horde recruit had ruined their chances for advancement by appearing either too hesitant or too proud before Hordak. When she finally spoke, she was careful to keep the joy and pride she felt from coloring her words.

"If my lord Hordak feels that this is my destiny, then so it must be,"

This time she was sure she heard Lena gasp, but did not have a chance to look at her before Hordak caught her in an embrace.

"Oh, Adora," he breathed into her ear, "You do not know how it gladdens my heart to hear you say those words." He released her and turned to his enchantress. "Shadow Weaver, make the necessary preparations."

Adora looked over at Lena, who smiled and mouthed the word, "Congratulations." The smile was shaky, but Adora could hardly blame her. She probably expected a repeat performance from three years ago. Instead, Adora smiled back, her mind churning with an appealing idea. A simple, two-word apology seemed so inadequate for what she had done. Had not Lena herself once said that actions speak louder than words? What if Adora could somehow make Lena part of the most important day of her life?

"My lord." Adora realized only after the words left her mouth that she had just interrupted a conversation between Hordak and Shadow Weaver. She cringed and waited for the inevitable rebuke. She was surprised when Hordak merely turned to her and smiled.

"Yes?"

"When will the ceremony be held?"

"Why, tonight, my dear. Five hours from now."

"May I make a request of my liege?"

"Of course."

"I know that it is customary that only Horde soldiers attend the ceremony, but I wondered if perhaps an exception might be made."

"That depends. Who is it you wish to invite?"

"Lena." Adora answered simply.

Hordak frowned for a moment, clearly unfamiliar with the name. Then he followed Adora's gaze, and his eyes narrowed.

"Why should you wish to have the physician's assistant at your induction?"

"Forgive me, Lord Hordak. It is only that…well…Lena once cared for me as a mother, and I wished only to repay her kindness by allowing her to be present at the happiest event of my life."

Hordak regarded them both for a long moment; then his lips curled in an enigmatic smile, and he snorted loudly.

"So you wish this woman to be there when you pledge your undying allegiance to the Horde?"

"Yes, my lord."

This must have been the right response, for Hordak laughed aloud and said,

"Why, I can think of nothing that would please me more. Of course- Lena, is it? - may join us tonight."

"Thank you, my lord." Adora breathed. She then turned to Lena and asked, anxiously, "You will come, won't you?"

"Oh, my child." The woman whispered and closed her eyes, obviously overcome by emotion. Only after taking several shaky breaths did she open her eyes and look at Adora. "Of course I'll come."

Adora almost embraced her then, but decided that Hordak might consider that sort of behavior inappropriate for a soon-to-be force captain. Instead, she smiled demurely and murmured,

"Thank you, Lena."

The other woman nodded. She shifted and took a step toward Adora, reaching out as if she meant to take the girl's hands into her own. Hordak cleared his throat then, and something like fear flashed across Lena's face; her hands dropped back down to her sides and clenched into fists.

"I think it is time you returned to your training, my dear." Hordak said.

"Of course, my lord." Adora responded. She turned back to him and bowed, then looked to Shadow Weaver and inclined her head. She then looked at Lena and said, "May I accompany you as far as the infirmary?"

Adora thought she saw Lena's eyes light up, but the light dimmed when Hordak said,

"I have further business with this woman, my dear."

"Oh. Yes. Of course."

"It's alright, Adora," Lena murmured gently, "I'll see you tonight."

Adora nodded, made her bows again, and strode from the room. The door closed behind her, as if by magic. She looked back and gasped, for it seemed to her as if the blood bat glowed even brighter than before. _An omen, _she thought, and smiled to herself. She placed her slender fingers on the decoration, closed her eyes, and whispered,

"My destiny."

* * *

Adam stared down at the sword in his hands, transfixed. He had never taken much interest in weaponry- one sword was as good as another, in his opinion- but even he knew that this blade was superior to any other. It should be, having been forged by the Ancients themselves.

_For me,_ Adam thought. _It was forged for me._

He knew, from what the Sorceress had just finished telling him, that that was not exactly true. There had been one before him who had wielded the sword and saved the world. Still, it was uncanny how natural the sword felt in Adam's hands. His fingers curled around the hilt as smoothly and gracefully as if he had been born holding it. The sword had already been glowing when the Sorceress showed it to him; now that it was actually in his hands, it shone even more brightly, and Adam felt a faint wave of heat splash over his fingers.

He sensed that Duncan and the Sorceress were watching him, waiting to see what he would do. One part of him wanted to drop the sword and run from the castle, while the other part ached to fulfill his destiny. Except that it was not just his destiny- the fate of an entire planet hinged on what he did with the sword. That part of the Sorceress's revelation still puzzled him. Eternia was at peace, and had been for sixteen years. What did the Sorceress know that compelled her to summon him?

_Skeletor. _

Adam's head snapped up. He looked at the Sorceress and saw that she had suddenly grown pale. He knew then that she, too, had heard the whisper. Duncan narrowed his eyes at them both, clearly perplexed by the distressed looks on their faces. The Sorceress sighed heavily and said,

"I thought as much."

"What is this… this 'skeletor'?" Adam asked.

"Not 'what,' Adam," The Sorceress said, "Skeletor is a being, and a dangerous one, at that. He is the greatest threat Eterniawill ever know. He is the reason I sent for you."

"If he's such a danger, then where is he?" Adam demanded.

"He is… coming," the Sorceress whispered intensely, eyes closed tightly as if in pain, "He will be here very soon."

"What does he want?"

"To rule Eternia."

"But… but my father rules Eternia!"

The Sorceress opened her eyes and looked straight into Adam's. At that moment, Adam understood everything; and he remembered asking his father once if the bad men might one day kill him, and how Randor had said that he did not plan on dying anytime soon. Up until an hour ago, Adam was satisfied with that answer. Now he was forced to cast aside the well-intentioned lies of childhood and burden himself with the truth: the bad men **would** come, and they **would** kill his father- and millions more- unless Adam stopped them. Unless he followed his destiny.

"What do I do?" he asked the Sorceress. "What do I say?"

"Raise the sword." The enchantress said. "All you need do is raise the sword."

Adam gripped the hilt tightly and lifted the blade into the air, over his head. He stood like that for several seconds; just as he was beginning to wonder if anything was going to happen, a voice whispered in his ear. He smiled grimly- the same voice that had named the threat against the planet was now telling him how to stop it.

Adam stood straight and tall, assumed the wide legged stance of the warrior, and began to chant.

"By the power of Grayskull…"

* * *

Adora was just beginning to fidget when General Morden and Shadow Weaver entered the barracks.

"It is time." Shadow Weaver announced.

Adora walked between them to the auditorium, where Shadow Weaver waved her fingers at the closed door. It creaked slowly open, and the trio entered a room filled with people. Adora had been to many inductions over the years, and she could not remember this many people ever attending. She did not recognize anyone from her unit. She did not recognize anyone at all, in fact, until she reached the very bottom of the seating area. There, sitting on the end of the first row, was Lena.

When Adora saw her, she stopped walking and turned. Shadow Weaver and General Morden stopped, too, and it seemed as if the entire arena was watching her.

"You came." She said softly.

"Yes."

"I have to ask you something."

"Now?"

"Yes," Adora nodded solemnly, "Something about my mother."

"Adora…"

"Would she be proud of me?" Adora said in a rush.

"What!"

"I have to know, Lena. Do you think my mother would be proud of me?"

Lena stared at her for a long moment. Then she did something that Adora could not remember her ever doing before: she leaned forward and kissed Adora tenderly on the forehead. Afterward, she dropped her head close to Adora's shoulder, and Adora thought she might whisper in her ear. Instead, Lena straightened, took Adora's hands, and said,

"I **know** she would be."

She held Adora's hands for a second more, gently stroking her fingers, before releasing them and whispering,

"Hordak is waiting for you."

Adora nodded, inclined her head in a show of respect, and turned and continued walking down to the field. Hordak was indeed waiting, but he did not seem displeased. In fact, he looked happier than Adora had ever seen him before. The smile playing across his lips was one of triumph, as if he had just won a great battle.

"Ah. My dear," he whispered when Adora was standing before him. He was seated on a throne in the middle of the stage, and he rose as Adora made her bow. He looked out at the crowd and shouted, "My soldiers! I have commanded your presence so that you might bear witness to the pledge this woman makes today!"

"Are you ready, my dear?" he asked in a low tone.

"Yes, my lord," Adora answered.

"Then kneel before me…"

Adora sank gracefully to the ground, placed her hands on her thighs, and looked adoringly up at Hordak.

"And repeat after me…"

Adora's voice echoed in the silent auditorium as she repeated the Horde pledge:

"I have no mother. I have no father. I will live for the Horde. I will die for the Horde…"


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Notes: So, since I forgot to mention this earlier, the following characters do belong to me: Bridden, Cerdic, and Zolana. I'm not married to them or anything; they're just not part of the MOTU/POP canon. _

**Chapter Eight**

It had been a day of memories, and as she slipped under the covers of her bed, the Sorceress of Grayskull mentally braced herself for the dreams to come- dreams of family, and devastation, and life-changing decisions.

She dreamt of Adora's abduction, instead; and the dream-memory was just as intense as the actual event. As they had eighteen years before, the Sorceress's powers of omnipotence meant that she knew the thoughts of everyone involved in the drama- Hordak's desire for revenge and power… Skeletor's maniacal eagerness at stealing his brother's happiness… Marlena's terror for her children, and her determination to protect them. And just like all those years ago, the Sorceress could do nothing to stop the horror unfolding before her. A scream rose in her throat when Hordak snatched Adora from the crib, and she actually cried out when Marlena lunged for them. She wanted to close her eyes, but some unseen force compelled her to watch as villain, queen, and princess disappeared in a flash of blinding light.

The Sorceress jerked awake, gasping for breath and rubbing her constricted throat. Sweat beaded on her forehead, yet she was freezing. Only after she had taken several deep breaths did she become aware that she was not alone. She rubbed her eyes, squinted at something on the other side of the room, and rubbed her eyes again, this time in disbelief.

Floating just in front of her open door- the door she **knew** she had closed before going to bed- was a glowing sword. The Sorceress slipped cautiously out of bed and crept toward the shimmering rapier, holding her breath the entire time. When she was close enough to touch it, the Sorceress slowly extended trembling fingers toward the sword. A large crystal sparkled in the weapon's hilt, and her fingernails had just barely grazed it when the sword suddenly soared up and out of the room. She ran after it, chasing the blade down the winding corridors and crumbling staircases of her ancient abode, unmindful of the cold stone chilling the soles of her bare feet.

The sword finally stopped in the very center of a large, subterranean room. The jewel glowed even brighter than before, and as she stepped closer, the Sorceress could see that a multicolored orb had formed in the heart of the crystal. The orb pulsed, swirling with color, and expanded until it completely filled the jewel, then streamed out and formed a protective rainbow around the sword's outline.

Several minutes passed before the Sorceress broke the silence. She gasped, and tears of understanding and joy slipped unchecked down her cheeks as she whispered, reverently,

"Oh, Ancients! You've found her! You've finally found Adora."

* * *

Prince Adam stood before the entrance of Castle Grayskull, waiting patiently for the Sorceress to lower the drawbridge. The sun was just beginning to tint the sky with dawn's early light, and the breeze typical of Eternian nights lingered, ruffling Adam's hair. He sighed. At his feet, Cringer yawned and stretched.

The drawbridge finally creaked its way to the ground, and Adam and Cringer stepped inside the castle. They headed immediately for the throne room, where they found the Sorceress standing at the window, staring out at the encroaching dawn.

"Hello, Adam." She murmured without turning. Her voice was eerily calm, especially given the urgent tone of her earlier telepathic message: _Adam! Come quickly!_ _Eternia needs her champion!_ Adam had fully expected to see Skeletor and his minions storming the castle. All was quiet, however, and a sense of peace and tranquility permeated the cool air of the fortress. Adam did not see anything that required his, or He-Man's, immediate attention.

"You sent for me, Sorceress?" Adam said, careful to hide his confusion and fatigue.

"Yes. I need you to deliver something for me."

Adam bit back a groan. He had hoped that the Sorceress's assignment would be quick, and local, so that he could return promptly to the palace, preferably before his father noticed that he was gone. Adam wondered how Duncan would explain his absence this time. He imagined that Duncan was as tired of lying as he was, and he hoped that whatever the Sorceress wanted delivered was important enough to warrant another falsehood.

She turned then, and Adam's eyes widened in astonishment. Floating inches above her palms was a shimmering sword. As the prince watched, the sword righted itself and floated toward him.

"This is what you want me to deliver?"

The Sorceress nodded. Adam peered closely at the blade and discovered that it was almost an exact replica of his own Sword of Power- the only difference was the hilt, where a large crystal winked at him.

"This is the Sword of Protection," the Sorceress announced, "It is very powerful, and I need you to find its rightful owner."

"Where is its rightful owner?"

"On another world. I will open a portal for you."

Adam inwardly groaned. So much for being home before breakfast!

"What world?"

"I cannot tell you."

The prince raised his eyebrows. The Sorceress had a talent for mystery, but she had always given him at least the name of his destination. He almost pressed her, but decided against it. If there was one thing he had learned over the past two years, it was that the Sorceress was never going to tell him one iota more than she thought he needed to know.

"Alright," he acquiesced, "_Who_ is the owner of the sword, then?"

"I cannot tell you."

Adam closed his eyes and swallowed a sigh of frustration before asking, "If you cannot give me a name or description, then how will I know who I should be looking for?"

"You will not know… but the sword will, and it will tell you when you have found its owner."

"A talking sword?" Adam asked cheekily.

The Sorceress stared back at him, her gaze boring into his until he began to squirm. Only after he had lowered his eyes to the floor and muttered an apology did she speak again.

"If there are no more questions, young prince, I will open the portal."

She strolled to the center of the room, raised her arms, and began chanting. Soon a splash of light appeared before her. As the light brightened, and the portal expanded, a shadowy image began to form. Adam could just make out the figures of what looked like trees. Cringer pressed himself against Adam's leg and whimpered. The Sorceress turned to them, fatigue evident on her face.

"Are you ready?"

Adam nodded and looked down at his pet.

"C'mon, Cringe."

He strode toward the portal, followed closely by both Cringer and the mysterious sword. When they reached the mouth of the mystical gate, the Sorceress murmured something foreign, and the sword leapt into Adam's sheath. Metal slid against metal, and then the two swords pressed together. Adam made a mental note that the Sword of Power was the one closest to his back. He moved to enter the portal, but was stopped by a hand dropping on his shoulder. He looked back to find the Sorceress smiling sadly at him.

"Whatever happens, Adam, remember this: sometimes we lie to the ones we love, because we love them."

With that, she gently pushed Adam through the portal. The light faded quickly, and by the time Adam realized what had happened, the portal had closed completely. He glanced down at Cringer; the large cat was busy covering his face with his paws. He then looked at their surroundings and sighed.

Prince and pet were completely alone, stranded in an alien forest thick with pastel-colored foliage.

* * *

Marlena closed her eyes, inhaled deeply… and gagged as the scent of blood and terror assailed her nostrils. She swallowed back bile and mentally cursed herself for her momentary stupidity. After eleven years of toiling in the infirmary, she should have known better than to take deep breaths. The odor of intense suffering had always permeated this particular section of the Fright Zone; and no matter how many times a week Marlena scoured every square inch of the infirmary, the smell always returned, stronger than before.

Of course, it did not help that Horde attacks had increased to a fever pitch over the past year. Every day, hundreds of prisoners were brought to the Fright Zone; and those who had been injured in the raids on their homes were dragged to the infirmary. Hordak's orders were very simple: do not let anyone die. Death, the tyrant had explained to his chief physician on more than one occasion, was a form of escape- and no one escaped from the Fright Zone. Besides, dead people could not be enslaved. Hordak did not really need slaves, since more than enough robot troopers were manufactured each year to serve the Horde. Slavery was just another method of torture, and Bridden's task was to make sure that new prisoners lived long enough to suffer. Marlena's task was to assist Bridden.

Two days after seven year-old Adora began training to become a Horde soldier, Marlena was brought to Hordak's throne room. She had been fairly certain that she was about to be executed, and as two troopers threw her at Hordak's feet, she prayed only for her daughter's protection. Then, she stood and stared defiantly at her captor.

"For seven years," Hordak began, "you have served as Adora's caregiver, tending to her needs. You have also tried to protect her from the fate that I have planned for her, and you have failed. She is in training even as we speak, and General Tarza tells me that your daughter will make a splendid soldier. Her childhood is over. She no longer needs a caregiver." He rose from his throne and strode over to stand in front of his prisoner; then caught her chin in his hand, pushed his face into hers, and breathed into her ear, "So, tell me, Marlena, what do I do with you?"

The queen stared straight ahead, fighting the urge to struggle in Hordak's grasp. He squeezed her chin, his fingers digging cruelly into her jaw. Still she would neither cry out nor answer his question, and after several more seconds he released her.

"I have decided," he said after a long moment of silence, "that you will serve me. What do you think about that?"

"Rot in hell."

Hordak laughed softly, humorlessly, then smacked Marlena harshly across the face. The blow knocked her to the ground; she tried to stand, but a strong kick to the back sent her halfway across the room. She could hear footsteps approaching her when she landed, and hastily brought her hands to her head and her knees to her chest. She bit her lip to keep from screaming as Hordak's feet found the unprotected parts of her body. He kicked her mercilessly for over a minute, then reached down and jerked her to her feet. She tried to turn her head away, to avoid another blow, but he wrapped strong fingers around her neck and pulled her against his body.

"You listen to me," he hissed over her strangled gasps, "You think you have suffered these last seven years, but you do not yet know what suffering is. Defy me again, and you will beg for death." He relinquished his hold on her neck and flung her away from him. As she wheezed and gasped for breath, he returned to his throne and said, "You are to report immediately to the infirmary. Chief Physician Bridden will inform you of your new assignment."

Now, as she plunged her hands into a basin of ice-cold water, Marlena reminded herself that there were advantages to working in the infirmary. The position had allowed her to be at Adora's side five years ago, when her daughter was near death. She had learned a great deal about the world she was on from the prisoners she treated. Several captives spoke of the Great Rebellion, a faction determined to oust the Horde from Etheria. Names of non-occupied cities and villages slipped from captive tongues- Mystacor, Brightmoon, the Whispering Woods- and Marlena made mental note of them all, since these were the places to which she and Adora would need to go when they escaped.

_**If** you escape, _a bitter voice mentally reminded her. She shook her head angrily and scrubbed at her hands. The force of the strokes traveled up her arms and chest, causing the rings against her neck to lightly sway and brush her skin. Her anger abruptly vanished. Clean, wet fingers drifted up to her neck and grasped the rings. She closed her eyes again and allowed herself a few seconds of memory.

The first image that appeared was that of her son, Adam. She remembered the intense blue of his eyes… the feathery blonde hair that rested against the curve of his head… the short, wriggling limbs that relaxed when she nursed him. She wondered if his eyes had changed color; Adora's had not. She worried that Skeletor had managed to abduct or murder her son, just as Hordak had taken her and Adora. There was a half-second of agony at the thought; then she remembered the guards who had stormed the nursery just before Hordak opened the portal, and relaxed.

Next she thought of Randor. She did not worry about his survival. Instead, she remembered the times they had spent together. Perhaps because it had been so long since she had been tenderly held or loved, Marlena's memories of her husband were mostly tactile in nature: his fingers in her hair; his lips covering hers; his hands stroking her back or cupping her face. She also remembered the gentle cadence of his voice, and the tender endearments that flowed so naturally from his lips. Sometimes, when the screams of terror and pain seemed too much to bear, or when Bridden's explosive anger turned physical, Marlena would close her eyes and ears and remind herself that once, a long time ago, she had been loved.

These memories, as well as her love for Adora, were the reason why Marlena had not slowly lost her mind over the years. Insanity would have been so much easier. It was, Marlena often thought, the difference between clinging to the edge of a very high cliff and screaming for help, or simply letting go.

The irony of it all was that it would have been easier than ever for Marlena to escape. She was not monitored to nearly the same degree that she had been eleven years ago. Her duties as Bridden's assistant allowed her almost full access to the Fright Zone, and by now she was very familiar with the layout of the Horde's military base. But she would go nowhere without Adora, and Adora would go nowhere without Hordak's express permission. The tyrant had hinted more than once that he would hurt Adora if Marlena ever left the Fright Zone; he and Marlena both knew that she would not risk her daughter's safety.

There were, Marlena knew, two reasons why Hordak wanted her alive and captive. Neither had to do with Bridden's need for an assistant; both revealed the extent of Hordak's capacity for evil. Hordak had disclosed the first reason on that day, so long ago, when he abducted the Eternian queen and princess. He planned to one day return to Eternia and conquer it, and he wanted King Randor to see both his wife and daughter as prisoners of the Horde. As the years passed, and Hordak's rage at being defeated grew, he concocted a different, more insidious plot- one that he had gleefully revealed to Marlena after Adora had been informed of her promotion to the rank of Force Captain. Once he had conquered Eternia, he would show Randor that his beloved wife was alive and well; then he would force the deposed king to watch as Marlena was executed. That, Hordak knew, would destroy Randor.

Hordak also wanted Marlena alive and under his control so that he could maintain his power over Adora. He did not know how long Shadow Weaver's spell of compulsion would last, or what might break it, but he did know that Adora had always been avidly curious about her family and origins, particularly in regards to her mother. If the spell over Adora was broken, Shadow Weaver could always cast another one; but then Hordak would always wonder when _that_ spell might dissolve. It would be so much easier to reveal Marlena as Adora's mother, and then hold her life as ransom for Adora's loyalty. Marlena had vowed long ago that this plan would never come to fruition; she would die first.

A whimpering sound caused her to open her eyes and turn. A little girl, no older than five, stood just behind her, peering up with wet eyes. Her name was Zolana, and she was the only member of her family to survive the raid on their village. The child with the black curls had suffered a broken arm, and Bridden had ordered that she remain in the infirmary until the limb healed. It was Marlena who plastered her arm, administered pain medication, and held the child while she screamed for her dead parents. The little girl had been sequestered in the infirmary for a month, and in that time had become Marlena's second shadow. Now, once Marlena noticed her, she shuffled closer, resting her head against the queen's leg. The woman hastily dried her hands on her tunic, then knelt down and gently embraced the child.

"Did you have a bad dream?" she asked softly. Zolana nodded and buried her face in Marlena's shoulder. Marlena held the girl for a minute before picking her up and carrying her back to her cot. She tried to lower her to the mattress, but the child whimpered again and clung tightly to her neck. Marlena settled onto the cot and rubbed Zolana's back; then she began to hum. Soon she felt the child's rigid body begin to relax, and as she started on the third melody, the sound of steady breathing reached her ears. Marlena knew that she should get up and return to her cell, but fatigue pressed down on her like a lead blanket. Instead, she carefully pushed herself until her back was against the wall, then pulled Zolana closer to her and closed her eyes. All around her, prisoners both awake and asleep whimpered in fear. A woman gone mad chattered loudly to her dead children, and a man shrieked curses at the entire Horde race; but Zolana's weight provided welcome warmth, and soon Marlena was running into the dream-arms of her husband.

* * *

King Randor stared out at the night sky, trying to fit his mood to the serenity of the evening. He failed, and soon began softly beating his frustration into the balcony railing. Below him, torchlights sparkled in the garden where he and Marlena had spent most of their courtship. The light of the two moons turned the surface of the fountain into a mirror; the scent of a dozen different species of flower drifted up to him. The odor of the ronsa flower was the strongest. Marlena had once told him that the ronsa closely resembled an Earth flower known as the daisy. Daisies had been her favorite flowers on Earth, and when Randor wed her, she wore a wreath of ronsas in her hair.

Randor sighed. Any pleasure the memory of his wedding might have brought was overshadowed by his worry for his son. Adam had left sometime before dawn, traveling to Castle Grayskull at the Sorceress's behest. This was all Duncan could tell him. He did not even know how long Adam would be gone, or what exactly the Sorceress's request entailed. Randor tried to convince himself that his son was safe- surely the Sorceress would not knowingly risk the life of Eternia's prince. Besides, Adam had spent a great deal of time at Castle Grayskull over the last two years, and always returned from his visits safe and sound. The worried father had repeatedly reminded himself of that throughout the day, but now, as the rest of the city prepared for slumber, Randor inwardly fumed that Adam had not thought to take Teela with him. He knew that the Captain of the Royal Guard, and Adam's personal bodyguard, was as irritated by Adam's carelessness as he was.

"How am I supposed to protect him if I don't even know where he is?" the outspoken redhead had railed after receiving the news of Adam's departure. "By the Ancients! I don't know what he's thinking when he pulls stunts like this!"

Randor knew exactly how she felt. The truth was that he did not know his son at all anymore. It seemed like all the boy ever did was eat, sleep, and avoid combat lessons. He frequently disappeared for hours at a time, returning with no plausible explanation for his absence. He was consistently late for events, and appeared to have no interest in preparing himself for his future as king. His lackadaisical attitude was the antithesis of the values Randor had tried to instill in him: courage, maturity, and a strong sense of duty and responsibility to his people. In short, Adam's ever-present apathy was not at all befitting of Eternia's future king.

This worried Randor- but what worried him more was that his son's behavior was a fairly recent development. For most of his life, Adam had been active, studious, and responsible. Granted, he had never exactly relished combat training, but neither had he gone to any great lengths to avoid it. Now, Teela reported spending most of Adam's allotted training time trying to find him. He ran from battles; not surprising, since he was really not adequately prepared to fight in them, and apparently did not care to learn. Randor could not pinpoint the exact moment of his son's transformation, but remembered noticing changes in Adam soon after his sixteenth birthday.

Unfortunately, it was also at this time that Skeletor returned with a small army, more determined than ever to overthrow his brother and rule Eternia. He had been launching almost weekly attacks against both the Royal Palace and Castle Grayskull, and might have already succeeded in his plans if the champion known only as He-Man had not come to the rescue every time. Other warriors joined the fight against Skeletor, each adding his own special method of combat to the perpetual battle; grateful Eternians referred to them as the Masters of the Universe, and it was a title they had more than earned.

He-Man and the Masters were very good at fighting, but it was up to Randor to deal with the aftereffects of Skeletor's attacks. Repairs always had to be made, sometimes to entire villages, and those in need of funds always looked to Eternos first, while the citizens of Eternia's capital railed at the possibility of having their taxes increased. Randor was left trying to find a way to provide aid without invoking the ire of his entire kingdom. The king was also busy attempting to forge treaties, usually with monarchs who saw no reason to ally themselves with a city Skeletor was so bent on destroying. Even after the villain's minions attacked kingdoms far removed from Eternos, the majority of the planet's rulers were still reluctant to join forces with Randor, arrogant in their belief that Skeletor would never attack **them**; yet when they **were** finally attacked, they immediately demanded aid, starting the vicious cycle all over again!

Randor was so busy trying to ensure his kingdom's survival that it took him awhile to really notice the changes in his son. When he finally did, he at first attributed the aberration to a temporary sense of panic that clearly stemmed from Adam's recent confirmation as heir to the throne. He remembered his own terror following Miro's announcement, even though he had known for years that he would be the next king, and told himself that Adam was feeling the same thing. He spoke with his son that very night about the matter, and although Adam did not say much, he did admit that he was certainly feeling the weight of his responsibilities- at which point Randor launched into a reassuring speech detailing how confident he was in Adam's ability to rule, how he would not have confirmed Adam if he had not been certain that he was ready for the responsibility, and how proud he was of his son. Adam was smiling by the end of the speech, and Randor left his son's room confident that the issue had been resolved.

It soon became glaringly obvious that nothing had been resolved, and as Adam's irresponsible behavior increased, Randor's speeches became a little less reassuring, a little more demanding. Adam always nodded and gravely promised to improve his conduct; but his apathy continued, and Randor eventually concluded that it had nothing to do with fear of being king. In fact, he decided, perhaps Adam was so assured of his future that he felt no need to work any harder for it. Well, that attitude was inexcusable, and Randor made sure that Adam knew it.

"You think sitting on a throne and wearing a crown makes someone a king, but it doesn't!" He lectured after each and every one of Adam's transgressions. "A king- a **good** king- works hard for his people. Lazy people do not make good kings, and neither will you if you don't start showing some responsibility!"

Nothing Randor said seemed to make any difference; if anything, Adam's behavior increased. The breaking point had come the previous month, when the father decided to try a slightly different approach in dealing with his son.

"One day- perhaps one day very soon- you are going to have a family of your own. Don't you want to be able to protect them from harm?"

"Like you, Father?"

At first, Randor thought he had imagined the angry inflection with which Adam said the words; then he saw the bitter gleam in his son's eyes, and felt his face flush with fury.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know exactly what it means."

"Why don't you explain it to me?" Randor said, his voice soft and dangerous. "That is, if you dare!"

"Perhaps you should ask my mother. Oh, wait," Adam let out a mock gasp of realization, "she's not here, is she?"

He turned to walk out of the room, but Randor stepped in front of him, blocking the path to the door. Father and son stared at each other for a long moment; Adam crossed his arms defensively over his chest while Randor struggled not to hit his child. When he finally spoke, his words were low, and his voice trembled with fury.

"I was fighting to save this kingdom when your mother was killed, not off sleeping by the river- and I'll be damned if I'll allow you to use her death as some sort of verbal ammunition!"

The change in Adam's demeanor was instant; he bowed his head, and his arms dropped limply to his sides. "I'm sorry," he muttered to his shoes, "I had no right to say that. It's just that… I…"

"If you think you can excuse away what you said, you had better think again," Randor interrupted, "There is no excuse for your words. In fact, I don't think I've ever been more disappointed in you than I am right now."

Adam's head snapped up; his eyes widened as if Randor had just dealt him an actual, physical blow. Then his cheeks reddened, and he yelled,

"I SAID I WAS SORRY!"

He then turned on his heel and raced out of the room. Randor had not tried to stop him. He had stared at the retreating figure of his son instead, wondering how things could have gone so horribly wrong. He understood now that he should have simply accepted Adam's apology, perhaps even allowed him to finish his next sentence. At the time, however, he had just been so angry with Adam that he had not been willing to hear what the young man had to say.

The two had barely spoken since the altercation. Randor had started to approach Adam on several occasions, but never did; the man who had braved alien armies, and survived the death of his wife and abduction of his daughter, was terrified of what might happen if he tried to speak with his son. Would he only push Adam further away? How had they even come to this point? Might things have been different, if Skeletor had not come back to Eternia? If Marlena and Adora had never been taken?

Randor sank to his knees, suddenly exhausted. His fingers stretched over the railing; he rested his forehead against the cool stone and breathed deeply as hot tears traveled down his face. Adam was right: if Randor had been in the nursery that day, he could have saved Marlena; he could have saved them both. The fact that he had been defending his world from the monsters did not make his wife and daughter any less gone, did not make the nights any less lonely. His mother… Miro and Keldor… Marlena and Adora… everyone he had ever loved had left him, and now Adam was gone, too.

"I'm sorry," he gasped out the words he had never been able to say to his son, "Please come back. Please don't leave me."

He repeated the words over and over again, and as a cool breeze brought the scent of Marlena's favorite flower up to him, Randor began to wonder if he was speaking only to his child.

* * *

Force Captain Adora was supposed to be on vacation, not facing off against some muscle-bound, half-clad stranger. Yet here she was, suffering through the man's endless quips, and trying to figure out the best way to defeat him.

And she would defeat him, despite what he might say to the contrary. Right now he was going on about how he was the best warrior in the universe. _Maybe in your universe,_ she thought, and tightened her grip on her sword.

The man lunged suddenly, and his blade met hers. Next came the warriors' dance, the steps to which Adora knew so well: parry, parry… thrust, thrust. They moved to the rhythm of steel hitting steel. The man almost managed to knock Adora's sword from her hand, and grinned smugly. Adora bared her teeth at him. She could almost see the next jibe playing on his lips. "Oh, no, you don't," she muttered, and swung her blade against his with excessive force. As expected, the blade flew from his hands. His mouth fell open in surprise. Adora laughed; the sound died on her lips when the man pulled a second sword from his sheath. He leveled the sword at her chest, opened his mouth… and closed it again as the sword began to glow. He stared at the blade in apparent astonishment, and then looked closely at Adora, as if seeing her for the first time.

"It can't be." He muttered under his breath. "It just cannot be."

So engrossed was the mysterious warrior that he failed to see the Horde trooper twenty feet behind him, aiming a stun gun at his back. The shot came a second later, and the man slumped to the ground in a faint, one arm falling across Adora's boot-clad feet. The sword, still glowing, dropped to the ground; Adora stepped lithely across the fallen warrior and carefully lifted the weapon from the grass. Several troopers stomped over and lifted the man up, while Adora stood back and stared at the sword. A clear jewel sparkled brightly up at her. Her fingers curled around the hilt as naturally and certainly as if the rapier had been made just for her. The sword glowed more brightly than before, yet Adora was not afraid. In fact, it was as if the glow was thawing a part of the woman that she had not even known was frozen. She was only vaguely aware of the sound of prisoners being loaded into Horde transport, the clank of flesh being secured to metal. The captives, all rebels who had started an uprising in the Horde-occupied village of Thaymore, would be taken to Beast Island, where they would be given the opportunity to repent for their actions.

"Like recalcitrant children, brought before their father," Adora murmured part of the sacred Horde oath, "So will the insurgents be brought before Hordak, and they will be punished; for through punishment comes understanding, and repentance, and ultimately, obedience everlasting."

She shivered, and looked down to find that the sword had stopped glowing. The last rebel was loaded into the Horde convey, and the metal doors slammed shut. The troopers looked to Adora expectantly, awaiting her command. She squared her shoulders and strode confidently toward them, telling herself that this latest battle was no differentfrom any other. Yet as she furtively ran her thumb across the tear-colored jewel of her new weapon, Adora could not shake the feeling that her life had just been suddenly, and irrevocably, changed.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

There was really no need to interrogate the prisoner. After all, he had been nothing but truthful about his involvement in the latest rebel skirmish; and his friends may have eluded capture, but it was no secret that the Great Rebellion operated out of the Whispering Woods. So Adora had no right at all to be standing in front of the prisoner's cage, hands on hips, barking out questions that had nothing whatsoever to do with yesterday's battle.

"This sword" she held out the blade that had occupied her thoughts for the last day, "feels like it was meant for me. Why is that?"

The warrior who called himself He-Man shrugged. "I am as confused as you are. It does seem like you were meant to wield the sword; but it was forged by the Ancients, and therefore cannot be used by one who serves the forces of evil."

"I do not serve the forces of evil."

"You serve the Horde, do you not?"

Adora stiffened. "Yes." When the prisoner did not respond, she snapped, "The Horde is not evil!"

"Oh, really? So you see nothing wrong with trying to overpower a defenseless planet?"

"I see nothing wrong with exerting authority over a world that is rightfully yours."

"I don't know enough about the history of this world to say whether or not your leader is its rightful ruler," He-Man returned, "But I have **seen **enough to know that the way in which Hordak chooses to exert his **righteous authority** is beyond cruel."

"Cruel!"

"What else would you call it when innocent people are enslaved?"

"They are not innocent," Adora said slowly, as if addressing a mentally deficient child, "And they are not enslaved. Only those who defy the Horde are arrested; and they are free to leave as soon as they verbally, publicly, acknowledge Hordak's supreme authority."

"Sounds simple enough," He-Man said pleasantly, "So, most of the people arrested by the Horde end up agreeing to this?"

"Well…no," the woman admitted, "Etherians as a whole appear to be fairly stubborn."

"You speak as if you are not Etherian yourself."

"I am Hordian." Adora stated proudly.

"You don't look it."

"And yet, I am." Adora smirked.

"So, if the prisoners publicly submit to Hordak, and are freed, where do they go?"

Adora blinked at the rapid shift. "Why, to their homes, I suppose."

"What if they do not have homes left to go to? What if their homes were destroyed by the Horde?"

"The Horde does not destroy homes!" Adora snarled.

"The Horde destroys everything: homes… villages… entire lives. Everything!"

"You know nothing about the ways of the Horde!"

"Perhaps. But it appears that you know even less."

"Maybe you did not hear what I said earlier: I am a Force Captain. That means that I know everything about the Horde."

He-Man seemed to consider that for a moment. "Alright." He said finally. "Since you know so much: go prove me wrong."

"Excuse me?"

"Explore this world. See for yourself what the Horde has done. Perhaps then you will be worthy of the sword."

Adora stared at him, incredulous. She had come for answers, not insults and dares. The man crossed his arms over his expansive chest and leaned casually against the bars of his cage, making it clear that he would not be answering any of her questions until she accepted his challenge. Adora looked down at the sword; the jewel sparkled back at her, matching the impudent gleam in the prisoner's eyes. Hordak's most loyal Force Captain tossed her hair back angrily and retorted, "Fine. But I am only doing this to show you just how very wrong you are."

She then turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, slamming the door against the bark of the warrior's laugh.

* * *

He-Man stopped laughing as soon as the impetuous blonde left the room. He shook his head, amazed at the woman's ability to deny the blatantly obvious. She reminded him of Teela, in that way. That thought segued into thoughts of home, and he sighed.

How long had he been gone? Two days? He wondered which lie Duncan had had to trot out this time; he hoped it was one that cast Adam in a favorable light. Although, to be fair, Duncan usually did tell Randor as much of the truth as he could, so this week's excuse would most likely be something along the lines of "Adam is helping He-Man and the Sorceress." It was only when Adam himself had to explain his absence that trouble began. This usually happened when Teela was involved in whatever situation required He-Man's presence. Adam could not very well say that he was helping He-Man when Teela could, correctly, refute the lie. In those instances, he was forced to resort to excuses that involved eating, sleeping, or fishing; and nothing, he knew, raised his father's blood pressure quite like finding out that the heir to the throne was once again too lazy to help defend his kingdom. Then would come the inevitable lecture.

Actually, Adam had not been lectured by his father in quite awhile; one month, to be exact. As grateful as he was for the reprieve, the young man was also ashamed of how it had come about. Now, even in his He-Man form, he flushed at the memory of the words he had hurled at his father, at the thing he had said about his mother. Here he was, chosen by the Ancients themselves to defend an entire planet, and he had behaved like a child. How could he blame his father for seeing exactly what Adam wanted him to see: a lazy, carefree, immature young man, and nothing more. The Sorceress had made it very clear, two years ago, that Randor could never know about his son's secret identity; that such knowledge would only place him in extreme danger. Adam understood that; but he often wished that he could go back to being the son who told his father everything, and made his father proud. Every lie he had to tell tasted sour in his mouth, and every truth he had to swallow turned his stomach.

Yet the lies he told were necessary; he was reminded of this fact every time he faced Skeletor. Now, as he slid heavily down to the cold floor, He-Man thought about the Sorceress's last words to him: "Sometimes we lie to the ones we love, because we love them." He thought about how it could just as easily be his father being held prisoner by the enemy, or worse; and he vowed, as he had every day since being entrusted with the Sword of Power, that he would tell a million lies before he would allow the bad men to take his father away.

A sound shattered his thoughts, and he turned his head just in time to see the door of the holding cell being forced open. A second later, a lavender-haired woman slipped into the room, followed by a brown-haired man armed with a bow and arrow.

"Glimmer, Bow," He-Man called out softly. The two looked over at him, and he grinned. "Good to see you. Now get me out of here."

* * *

Adora slipped out of the compound, her athletic figure covered by a light brown cloak. She made her way to the stables, where she saddled and mounted her beloved steed; then she galloped out of the compound of Beast Island. Had she looked back, she most assuredly would have noticed Hordak and Shadow Weaver standing at a window of the large prison complex, watching her departure with no small amount of interest.

"Well, well." Shadow Weaver rasped. "Where could she be going?"

"I know not." Hordak snorted. "But I think that perhaps that little mother-daughter reunion might be happening a bit sooner than planned."

Unaware of the exchange, Adora rode toward the west, where she knew several Horde-controlled villages lay. The pace she set made the hood of her cloak slide down her hair, forcing her to take notice of the wasted, abandoned fields. _A bad crop,_ she told herself, refusing to acknowledge the fact that bad crops do not leave footprints and scorch marks.

The sight of the first village made her want to vomit. Bodies littered what had most likely been the town market. Whole families lay in the dirt, their limbs tangled in a final embrace, their eyes wide open and staring at the road, at her. There were no buildings, only heaps of burnt straw and wood. Adora called out; the only response was the wind, blowing dirt and debris over the corpses. There was no denying the forces responsible for this destruction: the Horde symbol had been seared into the trunk of a massive tree. Adora rode up to it and ran her fingers over the mark. Bile rose in her throat, and she hastily pulled away and spurred Spirit forward, out of the conquered village.

The second village was almost an exact replica of the first; the only difference was the dozen or so survivors, their faces devoid of all emotion as they broke the earth with their fingernails and buried the bodies that littered the streets. They looked up when Adora rode past, flicking their eyes over her clean cloak and healthy complexion. She dismounted and wordlessly began to help the villagers, using the hilt of her small knife to burrow into the dirt. She gently placed men, women, and children into the crude graves; after placing a newborn onto the still chest of its mother, Adora's eyes filled with tears, and she could no longer see the bodies she was helping to bury. After each hole was repacked with dirt, the eldest male survivor wheezed out a prayer; the others bowed their heads while Adora stared off into the distance, at another tree branded with the mark of the Horde.

The last body was buried just as the first of Etheria's two moons was beginning to ascend the sky. Adora helped the survivors build a fire, using pieces of broken furniture to feed the flames; then spent the night staring into the heart of the blaze, wondering how she could have been so very wrong. She thought about what she had told He-Man: that the people imprisoned by the Horde were not innocent; then she thought about the newborn infants lying, still and lifeless, in the arms of the mothers who had probably died trying to protect them. She closed her eyes and saw the body that had been pulled from a charred pile of rubble: a little girl with tear tracks on her dirty face, still clutching a soft cloth doll. Adora hugged her knees to her chest and quietly wept. How could she have missed what was happening all around her? The fact that she had never personally participated in such a brutal raid was cold comfort. She may have never killed anyone, or allowed the soldiers in her command to take lives; but she had led hundreds of innocent people into slavery, all in the name of the Horde. By the time the sun's ray began to tint the sky, Adora's sorrow had been replaced by an uncontrollable rage. How could they have used her this way? How dare they lie to her!

She left before the villagers awoke, galloping furiously toward the Fright Zone. She felt as if her head was being cleared of a mental fog, and she remembered something that had happened six months ago. She was walking past the infirmary when she heard a scream, and raced through the door just in time to see a dirty, bedraggled woman drag the blade of a scalpel down her wrist. Bridden saw it at the same time, and the physician tackled the woman just as the weapon fell from her fingers. Adora watched, awestruck, as the man threw the woman onto a cot and hastily began to apply pressure to the wound. He yelled for a needle and thread, and Lena appeared a second later, pushing past Adora and bearing the necessary items. Meanwhile, the woman was still screaming; the words were shrill past the point of comprehension, but Adora nonetheless understood that the woman wanted to die. She took a step forward, certain that she could calm the woman; but Lena stepped in front of her, then draped a thin arm across her shoulders and turned her around, back toward the entrance of the infirmary.

"You should not have seen that," she breathed into Adora's ear.

"Why does she want to die?" Adora asked, turning her head and straining to see the woman. She felt Lena's arm slip from her shoulder, and looked over to find the auburn-haired woman studying her face, her head tilted to one side and her expression guarded. She seemed to be considering her next words.

"I really could not say," she finally murmured. Then she pushed Adora gently out of the infirmary, and closed the door.

Adora thought she knew now why that woman had tried to end her life, or could at least guess at the reason. She wondered how many members of the woman's family had died in the raid in which she had been captured, and how much the woman had been forced to witness. Which village had the woman come from, and how many more had been captured with her? How many had died; and were their bodies still lining the streets, their vacant eyes staring at the road, waiting for salvation? As she lead Spirit to a brook for refreshment, Adora bowed her head and swore upon the grave of her dead mother that she would avenge those people's deaths.

By the time she reached the Fright Zone, Adora was shaking with righteous fury. She strode angrily to her room, where she yanked clothing from a battered trunk and shoved it into a saddlebag. As she pulled out the last tunic, she realized that it was heavier than it should be; a second later, something fell from the cloth and clattered to the floor. Adora looked down at the one costly, non-combative thing she owned: a gold diadem, its single spire rising to a polished point. She had a vague memory of finding the tiara in a dusty corner of Hordak's throne room, of tucking the mysterious item into the folds of a voluminous red dress and rushing off to show Lena her treasure; but like most memories of her childhood, this one was faint, and Adora's head throbbed when she tried to remember anything more. Instead, she placed the crown gently in amongst her clothes; Horde soldiers never received monetary compensation for their services, so she would need something to barter for food and shelter. She slipped back down to the stables, where Spirit was waiting for her. She attached the saddlebag and was just about to mount when a thought occurred to her: she was running away, and it was not in her nature to do so. She patted Spirit's mane reassuringly, murmured "I'll be right back," and marched toward the throne room. She had every intention of leaving the Fright Zone and never returning; but not before she confronted Hordak about what she had seen, and about the lies she had been told.

So angry and determined was she that Adora did not even bother with the formality of knocking; she simply flung the door open and walked right in. Hordak was sitting in his throne, looking up at Shadow Weaver as she spoke to him. Both turned and watched Adora advance. Hordak's eyes glowed in obvious anger, yet his posture was relaxed, his voice gentle when he spoke.

"Welcome back, my dear. We missed you."

"Sure you did." Adora spat out. "I'll bet what you really missed was having someone help you murder and enslave innocent people."

"Why, whatever are you talking about, my dear?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Adora hissed. "The raids… the fires… the dead babies lying in the streets! You know about it all, because you ordered it!"

"Are you absolutely sure about that?" Hordak asked, adopting a tone one might use with an irrational child.

"Of course I'm sure!" she snarled. "I saw that vile mark" she jabbed a trembling finger at the emblem on Hordak's chest "burned into the trees."

"Really?" Shadow Weaver rasped, almost lazily. "How very interesting."

Adora felt her face flush at the witch's obvious indifference; and she suddenly understood, completely, why Hordak and Shadow Weaver could listen to her accusations and feel no remorse whatsoever. "You are evil." She whispered. "Both of you. You are the essence of evil. And I worked for you." She turned her angry gaze on Hordak and cried out, "I all but worshipped you! But no more! I am resigning my position, effective immediately. I am leaving this place, and you will never see me again."

"Calm down, child," Shadow Weaver murmured, floating down the steps of the dais and toward Adora, "and think about what you are saying. Leave the Fright Zone? What utter nonsense! Where would you go? No one is going to help the infamous Force Captain Adora."

"I'll join the Rebellion," Adora flung back, "I'll dedicate the rest of my life to driving you from this world. I'll… Stay away from me!" she screamed as she felt Shadow Weaver's hands on either side of her head. She tried to pull away, but the heels of the enchantress's hands dug into her temples, her fingers burrowing into the back of Adora's skull. Adora was horrified to see a sickly green glow coming from the woman's fingers. Her heart pounded rapidly in terror when the witch leaned forward and began to rasp into her ear.

Suddenly Adora's brain was on fire, and stinging, as if Shadow Weaver's words were small, hot needles. She shook her head frantically from side to side, trying to dispel the sensation; but to no avail. Shadow Weaver forced her head back, until they were staring into each other's eyes; the enchantress's lips slowly curled into a thin, cruel smile. It was a familiar smile, a smile that Adora sometimes saw if she tried to remember too much of her early years; and now, as psychic fingers peeled back the layers of her will, Adora realized why that was.

_She's done this to me before!_ Adora thought. Darkness was pushing at the corners of her vision, bringing with it a nightmarish image of an old man lying on a cold, black floor, blood pouring from his head. Her brain, now achy and unbearably hot, flooded with the sound of a woman shrieking; then Adora's knees failed, and the last image she saw was of ebony marble, rushing up to meet her.

Shadow Weaver almost let the younger woman fall, but felt Hordak's eyes boring into her back and thought better of it. Instead, she gently lowered Adora to the floor, then turned and faced her master. Hordak rose from his throne and came to stand beside his witch. Both gazed down at the unconscious woman for several seconds; then Hordak spoke, "I thought we agreed not to use anymore spells."

"But she was right here," Shadow Weaver whined, "and Marlena is all the way in the infirmary. Magic was so much more **efficient** in this instance."

"Yes. But blackmail would have been so much more **effective**."

Shadow Weaver stiffened. "My magic did not fail."

"Oh? Then what made the girl turn on us like that?"

"My guess would be, something she saw." Shadow Weaver smirked.

"I know that!" Hordak yelled. He stalked back to his throne and dropped angrily onto the crimson cushion. "But what compelled her to go out and see those villages in the first place?"

Shadow Weaver looked back down at Adora. A silver hilt stuck out of the sheath on her back, and a clear crystal looked up at the witch. She knelt down and withdrew the sword, then straightened and regarded it carefully. The blade vibrated with mystical energy.

"This sword." Shadow Weaver rasped. She turned and caught Hordak's gaze. "This sword- and that muscle-bound warrior who destroyed half of your prison on Beast Island- are the key to everything."

"How?"

"I do not know." The witch said. She ran a sharp fingernail over the beveled surface of the crystal and smiled. "But there is great magic here, and I will make it ours."


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

The strongest man in the universe slumped to the floor of his prison, weaker than he had ever been in his entire life. He wanted more than anything to escape the machine draining his energy; but power chains held him in place, right in the path of something called the Magnabeam. His mind whirled with thoughts of escape, but he knew that he was physically unable to do anything without the Power Sword; and that was across the room, where Shadow Weaver had flung it after finding herself incapable of uncovering its secrets. The Sword of Protection lay beside it, and He-Man felt a pang when he saw it, thinking of the young woman who would never be allowed to wield the blade of her destiny.

He had been angry, at first, to find that her journey to the outside had apparently had no effect on Force Captain Adora; something that had become quite evident when she had placed him under arrest mere seconds after he had approached her in the Fright Zone. As he was imprisoned for the second time in as many days, He-Man decided that the woman was most definitely not the one the Sorceress had wanted him to find, and he was more than a little annoyed to think of all the time he had wasted sneaking back into Horde territory and trying to find her. Anyone who could see what he had seen and still serve Hordak was not worthy of Grayskull's treasures!

Then Hordak had contemplated draining He-Man's energy with the Magnabeam, and something had changed in the woman. The warrior remembered how the force captain's blue eyes had gone wide with horror at her master's plan; she had vigorously shaken her blonde head, as if clearing it of cobwebs, before vocally opposing Hordak. The witch had grabbed the woman as she moved toward the door of He-Man's cage, holding her head in strong hands and rasping in her ear while Grayskull's champion looked on in shock. He watched Adora fight, biting her lip in obvious pain; then he watched her eyes cloud over before closing. As one of the robot troopers carried Adora away, He-Man suddenly understood exactly how the woman could see plain proof of Hordak's evil and still serve him; because the spell she was under made her unable to do otherwise.

Now, as his heavy head fell forward, He-Man looked out through a curtain of blonde locks at the door of the Plunder Room. He could feel himself beginning to slip into unconsciousness, and wondered what would happen once the Magnabeam was finished with him. He thought about his father. What would Duncan say to explain Adam's permanent absence? He thought about his mother. Had she known fear like this before she died? Would she be waiting for him, wherever he was going? He spent the remaining seconds of consciousness thinking about Force Captain Adora… and praying to the Ancients that he might one day be forgiven for failing to save her.

* * *

For the first time in five years, the voice in Adora's dreams was not her mother's. In fact, it was not a voice Adora had ever heard before; but it was calling her name, softly, but so persistently that she soon had no choice but to awaken. To her surprise, the voice remained. She buried her face in her pillow, trying to drown out the sound. Her head pounded, and as she attempted to fall back asleep, Adora gradually began to realize that she had no memory of going to bed. In fact, her memories of the last day were pretty hazy; but the fog was clearing, and the voice was getting louder. Finally, Adora groaned and forced herself out of bed. She hastily donned her uniform, and then slipped out of her room and down the dark halls. Adora allowed the voice to guide her, and soon found herself standing before the door of the Plunder Room. She shivered as a raspy voice ordered her to retreat; but the other voice was louder, stronger; and when Adora finally summoned the courage to enter the Plunder Room, the gentle voice was the only one that remained.

The first thing Adora noticed was a cage in the center of the room, where the warrior called He-Man dangled, unconscious, from power chains. The Magnabeam was aimed right at him, and a golden shaft of light streamed from the machine to the man's chest. Adora shuddered; her brain told her that what was being done to He-Man was for the good of the Horde, but her heart screamed that no one had ever done anything to deserve this. She was debating whether or not to turn off the Magnabeam when a light on the other side of the room caught her eye. Adora turned and gasped; the sword, the one she believed meant for her, was floating six feet off the floor. It was also glowing, and in the center of the jewel was a woman's face. Adora walked, as if entranced, toward the weapon. She stood before it, but dared not touch it. The jewel was at eye-level, and as Adora gaped at the image inside, the woman began to speak.

"You must save him," she said in the same voice that had drawn Adora from her room, "You were born to save him. You were born to save millions."

"I… I cannot." Adora gasped out. "It would go against the will of the Horde."

"You were never meant to obey the will of the Horde." The woman murmured gently. Her green eyes held Adora's blue ones, forcing her to listen to her words. "Hordak took you from your family. He murdered your mother… and if you do not take this sword and follow your destiny, he will have also murdered your brother."

"My brother?" Adora breathed. The woman looked past her, and Adora followed her gaze to the man in the cage. Her eyes narrowed, then widened as understanding dawned. She turned back to sword. "My brother!"

The woman in the crystal nodded, the motion ruffling the feathers of her strange headdress. "Your brother. You are the only one who can save him."

"How?"

"For the Honor of Grayskull, Adora." The woman answered. Her features began to blur, and then fade away. When she spoke again, her voice was little more than a wisp of sound. "For the Honor of Grayskull."

For several seconds, Adora was unable to move. She thought about everything the woman had revealed. Absurd, all of it! Yet even as she tried to dismiss all that she had been told, Adora's hands crept toward the weapon before her, caressing the crystal. "For the honor of Grayskull." The words flowed naturally from her lips, as if she had been born to say them.

_You were born to save millions. _

Her fingers danced over the hilt. "For the honor of Grayskull." Her voice was stronger now, more confident. She suddenly knew that these were the most important words she had ever said; more important, even, than the pledge she had made to the Horde.

_He murdered your mother._

She looked back to the cage. The beam of light was fading, which meant that the Magnabeam had almost collected all of He-Man's energy. The prisoner looked thinner, and his once-tan skin was now almost gray. He was clearly unable to take much more of the Magnabeam's power.

_You are the only one who can save him._

Adora grabbed the sword, swung it over her head, and yelled the words that would alter the course of her destiny.

"FOR THE HONOR OF GRAYSKULL!"

She was suddenly encircled by a rainbow of light, and warmer than she had ever been in her whole life, as if the light was also inside her. She did not need a mirror to know that her appearance was changing; she felt taller, stronger, and more powerful than ever before. It was like she was morphing into a whole other person; and by the time the lightshow around her faded, she knew exactly who she had become.

"I AM SHE-RA!"

She raced to the Magnabeam, which she grabbed and hurled at the wall. Tears sprang to her eyes at the sight of He-Man- her brother- hanging from the power chains, cold and still as death. She-Ra ripped open the door of the cage, then threw herself down on the floor and placed her hands on He-Man's shoulders. She bowed her head and concentrated on making the mystic warmth flow from her body to his. "For the Honor of Grayskull," she whispered over and over again, "Please wake up." Tears fell from her eyes, onto He-Man's pale cheeks. "Please wake up, my brother."

It took a long time, and she felt slightly weaker than when she first transformed; but eventually the warrior's eyes fluttered open. She had not noticed it before, but He-Man's eyes were the exact same blue as her own. Of course, it made sense now.

He-Man sat up and regarded her suspiciously. "Who are you?" he growled.

She-Ra brushed tears from her face and laughed shakily. "Well, hello to you, too…. Brother."


	11. Chapter Eleven

_Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, everyone. I'll try to have the next chapter up by this Sunday. (No promises, though!) Meanwhile, this chapter's fairly long, so enjoy!_

**Chapter Eleven**

Three hours after being revived, He-Man stood in the Whispering Woods, facing his savior and her colorful steed.

"What did you mean when you called me 'Brother?'" He asked carefully. "And who are you, anyway?"

"I am She-Ra." The blonde woman answered. "And you **are** my brother."

"Whoever told you that?"

"The woman in the sword."

"The woman in the…" He-Man's voice trailed off as She-Ra pulled the Sword of Protection from her sheath, "The woman in **that **sword?"

Before She-Ra could answer, the jewel glowed to life, and the face of the Sorceress appeared. The sword floated from She-Ra's hands at the same moment and drifted to a spot between the two warriors; then the Sorceress began to speak.

"Eighteen years ago, twins- a boy and a girl- were born to King Randor and Queen Marlena, of Eternia. The king and queen were overjoyed at the arrival of their children, who they named Adam and Adora…"

The image of the enchantress was replaced by that of an opulent bedroom. A young, red-haired woman sat in a bed, propped against several pillows, while a brown-haired man wearing a crown held her hand in his. Both were gazing adoringly at the two infants lying safe against the woman's side. Adora's heart thudded in her chest as what the mysterious woman was saying sank in: these were her parents.

"…Their joy, however, was to be cut tragically short. The planet was at war with alien invaders calling themselves the Horde. Their leader, Hordak, was determined to rule Eternia himself. The Horde was ultimately defeated, but Hordak had heard that the newborn prince and princess were destined for greatness. He decided that he wanted to control their destinies, so before leaving the planet, he and his pupil, Skeletor, broke into the nursery, intent on abducting the royal infants…"

The image shifted again, and a mother and children in peril replaced the safe family of four. A blue-skinned creature held the woman tight against him, his hand over her mouth, while a younger Hordak lifted a pink bundle from one of the cradles. He-Man and She-Ra drew sharp breaths at the sight of their respective foes, and both watched in horror as the woman managed to escape Skeletor's grasp and hurl herself at Hordak. A second later, men in jade and gold uniforms stormed the room; a second after that, light streamed from Hordak's splayed fingers, and the villain disappeared with the infant and her mother.

"…The people would have been devastated to learn that both their princess and their queen had been taken by the enemy, so a spell was cast, and the Eternians simply forgot that their had ever been a second child. In fact, only three people remembered the infant Adora: her father, the king; Duncan, the king's man-at-arms; and I, the Sorceress of Grayskull. As the years passed, we three grieved for Eternia's lost child. But Prince Adam, ignorant of his sister's existence, lived a happy childhood; and when he grew to manhood, he was given the Power Sword, giving him the ability to transform into the most powerful man in the universe."

She-Ra turned and raised her eyebrows at He-Man. "So, that would make you Prince Adam?"

He nodded. "Sure does. And if she" he nodded toward the Sorceress, whose countenance had returned, "said that I am your brother, then that would make you…"

"Princess Adora." The Sorceress said gently. "Your twin, and the second Champion of Grayskull."

He-Man stared at the woman before him, reeling from what he had just heard. It did not take long at all for the warrior to come to a bitter realization: his father had lied to him. Eighteen years, and Randor had never bothered to mention the fact that he had a sister.

She-Ra bowed her head, fighting back tears as the images she had just seen played over and over in her brain. She thought of the infant girl she had been, taken from a loving family and raised to serve her abductor.

"Our mother?"

She-Ra looked up to find He-Man watching her, a question in his eyes.

"What happened to our mother?"

Suddenly She-Ra was Adora, thirteen years old; and her heart was breaking as Lena reminded her that her mother had died when she was born.

"She died." She-Ra whispered. "Hordak killed her." _And I served him. _She thought about the young woman who had given her life for her child, and began to quietly weep.

"Oh, no." He-Man said. "Oh, please don't cry." He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around She-Ra. "I miss her, too, and I never even knew her."

"Is our father still alive?" She-Ra asked between sobs. Had she been looking at his face instead of crying into his shoulder, she would have seen his features visibly harden.

"Yes. He's still alive."

She-Ra pulled away, wiped the tears from her cheeks, and sniffled. "I want to meet him. I want to go home, to Eternia. I want to get to know my family."

He-Man smiled down at her, blinking back tears of his own as he finally grasped all that the Sorceress had said: he had a sister. Joy bubbled up inside of him, temporarily chasing away the anger he felt toward his father.

He had a sister.

The warrior ran a thumb gently under She-Ra's eye, brushing away a stray tear, and whispered, "We want to know you, too."

* * *

Chief Physician Bridden was in a foul mood.

The infirmary was overcrowded, which meant that he spent more time in the place than out of it. That actually was not such a terrible thing, since he had always taken a special delight in beating helpless people; but then some of the people died, and Hordak punished him. The punishments usually involved a decrease in his pay, and while he had never been paid much for his services, his salary was usually more than enough for him to indulge in his…special interests.

One of those interests was across the room, pouring water into a large black pot. As Bridden watched, the woman whose name he had never cared enough to learn tucked an errant strand of red hair behind her ear. She then knelt down and heaved a second bucket up to the pot, emptied it of its contents, and set it back on the floor. Today was laundry day in the infirmary, which meant that once the woman had the water at a boil, she would be shoving sheets and pillowcases into the heavy container. Bridden feasted on the sight of her thin figure, and imagined the punishment that was soon to be visited upon it.

He looked back at the door from which Hordak's messenger had just exited, and grinned. Apparently, Force Captain Adora had disappeared sometime the previous morning. Rumors abounded of her previous plans to defect from the Horde, and it now appeared that she had done just that. Hordak, for some reason, seemed to think that Bridden's assistant could be used to lure the young woman back. Bridden himself could not imagine what sort of connection Hordak thought the two women might have, except for the seven years that the one had spent caring for the other.

Regardless of whether there was still anything like affection between the two women or not, Hordak would undoubtedly make the older woman suffer for Force Captain Adora's escape. Bridden had beaten this particular prisoner enough times to know that she was far too proud to show pain; but Hordak had at his disposal more instruments of torture than just his hands and feet, and the physician fervently hoped that his master would allow him to be present as the woman who had repeatedly resisted his advances screamed for mercy.

Yes, Chief Physician Bridden was in a foul mood. But as he imagined his assistant's stiff spine curling in pain, and her strong body trembling in terror, the healer's mood began to vastly improve.

* * *

"Are you ready?"

Adora smiled nervously at Adam. Cringer and Spirit stood nearby, patiently- and, in Cringer's case, fearfully- awaiting their respective owner's next commands.

It had been a full day since the twins had escaped from the Fright Zone. Since then, they had transformed once more and returned Brightmoon's queen to her realm. Now, as the members of the Great Rebellion rejoiced in the return of their leader, and Glimmer's mother, Prince Adam and Princess Adora stood miles away from the celebration, in the exact same spot where He-Man and She-Ra had learned of their relationship to one another.

Adora still had trouble believing that, in one day, her entire life had changed. She had gone from Force Captain Adora, leader of armies, to Princess Adora, heir to one-half of an entire world. She had spent eighteen years as an orphan, yet was mere hours away from meeting her father. She had once unknowingly served the forces of evil; now she would serve the forces of good, as both Adora and She-Ra.

The princess's nervous smile strengthened into a joyful grin. "I've been ready."

Adam smiled back, and then called upon the Sorceress. A minute later, a portal opened. Adora's heart hammered in her chest; somewhere beyond the circle of shimmering light was the land of her birth.

"C'mon, Cringe," Adam called back to his cowering pet, "Time to go home."

The humans and their animals stepped through the portal. The light was exceptionally bright, and Adora closed her eyes, allowing Adam to guide her. She stopped walking when he did, bowed her head, and opened her eyes. Tears immediately began to flow as she beheld her feet, standing firmly on Eternian soil.

* * *

Marlena stared dispassionately down at the man lying at her feet. His mouth was still open in a scream, but his eyes were closed. Marlena knew that they would open again, when his body went into rigor mortis; but she would be on her way to freedom by then.

Less than two minutes ago, Chief Physician Bridden had been gloating that Hordak had summoned Marlena. The captive queen had known then that something was amiss, since Bridden was usually very jealous of her time. If Bridden was happy, then someone was in pain…or about to be.

"Why does he want to see me?" Marlena had asked.

Bridden had simply laughed, and the woman had about decided that she would get no information from him when the man finally allowed the secret to spill forth from his thin, cruel lips: Force Captain Adora had escaped.

"You are going to suffer!" Bridden sang out, clapping his hands in glee. "And, since I haven't beaten anyone to death in the last four days, I might actually get to watch!"

Marlena barely heard him. The knowledge of Adora's escape exploded in her brain like fireworks, leaving behind brilliant shades of renewed hope and fierce determination. She was careful to keep such thoughts from showing on her face, however, and instead struggled to focus on Bridden's words.

"Of course, you're not going anywhere until the laundry is done." The man was saying. "I don't care what Hordak says. I suspect you'll be out of commission for a long time once he's done with you, and I want to get as much labor out of you as possible before then."

"Maybe you could help me with this, then." Marlena returned coldly, nodding to the pot. "I need to put it on the wood to boil, and it is heavy."

Bridden stared at her, his face going red with rage. For a long moment, Marlena thought he would rush forward and strike her, and she was surprised by the lack of fear she felt at the thought. The flush quickly faded, though, and he grinned at her, instead; no doubt envisioning the many ways in which Hordak would soon make her scream.

"Alright." He laughed, and sauntered casually forward, whistling through his teeth. It apparently never occurred to him to wonder why Marlena, who had spent eleven years hauling the same heavy vessel from the counter to the fireplace, should suddenly need his assistance. He realized his mistake seconds later, when the prisoner grunted and swung the full pot at his head. The last sound the man heard was his own scream.

Marlena looked up, and found herself being watched by hundreds of eyes. She stared past them, at the closed door of the infirmary. Had Bridden's scream been loud enough to alert the robot troopers? She doubted it, but knew that she would nonetheless have to be quick in her escape. At least she would not have to spend precious seconds looking for an escape route. In fact, Marlena had known for over two years the exact path she and Adora would take to freedom- and it had, ironically enough, been Adora who had discovered it.

Soon after her promotion to force captain, Adora had stopped by the infirmary, apparently on a break between combat lessons. The woman watched Marlena work for several minutes, pulling on a strand of golden hair, before finally speaking.

"Did you know that there's a secret path out of here?"

"Is there?" Marlena murmured, careful to keep her voice from shaking in excitement. "And where would such a path be?"

"There." Adora inclined her head toward the far wall of the infirmary. "Behind that door."

Marlena knew exactly what door her daughter was referring to. She also knew that the door had always been locked, and had simply assumed that it led to another room. She looked up at Adora, who was smiling, clearly bursting to share her secret.

"How do you know?"

Adora stepped closer, propped her hands on top of the counter, and whispered conspiratorially, "I just saw the ground plans for the entire complex, and those plans show that there is a path from that door all the way down to the outermost caverns. The Fright Zone was built over part of a large river, and the plans I saw show that one could follow the water all the way to the outside."

"It sounds like it would be quite a walk." Marlena said, feigning disinterest by looking back at the bandages she was rolling.

Adora nodded. "Ten miles. But there'd be a constant water supply the whole way." The force captain's brow furrowed in deep thought, and she muttered, "That might be something to consider, in case we ever had to evacuate. Do you know who has the key to the door?"

"Bridden, I would guess." Marlena shrugged. "Why do you ask?"

"I'd like to explore the path sometime. You could come with me, if you want."

Marlena looked up then, the bandage falling from her fingers. "I could get the key from Bridden," she whispered, unable now to keep a small tremor of excitement from tinting the words. "We could go today."

Adora stared at her for a moment, eyes narrowed, and Marlena wondered if she had gone too far. Then the younger woman frowned and said, "I wish I could, but I've got new recruits to train all day today. In fact, I should probably leave now, before I'm late." She whirled away, looked back, and laughed. "Besides, it looks like you're pretty busy, yourself." She nodded toward the stack of bandages waiting to be rolled, then strode out of the room before Marlena could say anything.

Now, Marlena looked at the locked door. Then she looked back down at Bridden, at the ring of keys attached to his belt. She knelt down, quickly removed the keys, and examined them. There were not very many, and she knew that most of them unlocked various boxes of medicine and other medical supplies. One key in particular caught her attention; it was longer than the others, and looked like it had rarely been used. She walked briskly to the locked door, shoved the key into the padlock, and turned it. There was a soft, distinctive click; then the lock separated, and the door shifted ever so slightly. The woman slipped the lock off, and the door swung completely open. The other side was dusty, which pleased Marlena; it meant that the passageway had not been used in a long time. She glanced quickly back at the infirmary door, once again ignoring the staring patients; then she opened the tunnel door wider, and her lips turned in a small smile at the loud sound of running water: a noise that would drown out the sounds of escape.

Marlena strode purposefully toward the silent prisoners. Zolana looked up at her, wide-eyed. No one, not even the madwoman, spoke. Bridden's former assistant surveyed the crowd quickly, but carefully. None of the prisoners suffered from serious ailments, and they were all able to walk; Zolana was the only child among them.

"We are leaving this place." Marlena stated quietly, authoritatively, and gestured toward the door to freedom. "Right now. "


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

Adora could not remember ever being as nervous as she was right now, not even when she stood before thousands of soldiers and publicly declared her allegiance to the Horde. Every bone in her body was fairly vibrating in anticipation, and she could not stop wringing her hands together.

Adam watched her carefully. "Are you having some sort of fit?" he asked, arching his eyebrows at her twisting hands.

"I'm nervous." Adora confessed. "After all, I've never done this before."

"You've never done what? Walked into a room?"

Adora rolled her eyes at her brother. "You know what I mean!" she hissed, and looked sideways at the men standing before them. They were staring straight ahead, their faces giving no indication that they had even heard the two teenagers.

"Is standing here forever going to calm your nerves?" Adam asked, his lips turned up into that grin Adora knew he used to mask his true emotions.

"No." Adora sighed. "I guess not."

"I didn't think so." Adam said, and caught the eye of one of the men. "So let's do this."

The men snapped into action, and in less than a second began opening the door that they had been assigned to guard. Adora's hands dropped to her sides. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and stepped into the throne room of Eternia's Royal Palace, where her father was waiting.

* * *

King Randor's discussion with Duncan and Teela was interrupted by the unexpected sound of the throne room's massive door being pushed open. Randor watched as two people, a man and a woman, entered. He had no idea who the female was, but the sight of the male caused him to rise immediately from his throne.

"Adam!" The king rushed to his son, stopping halfway into the room. "Where have you been?"

The prince shrugged. "I was on a mission for the Sorceress. Didn't Duncan tell you?"

"Well, of course he told me." Randor said, fighting to keep from snapping at the boy who stood so calmly before him. "But he didn't know where you had been sent, or what you were supposed to be doing. I went to see the Sorceress, and she refused to tell me anything useful."

Adam smirked. "Yeah. She does that sometimes."

Randor frowned. "Where were you, Son?" he asked in a low tone. "I was worried."

Adam stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, as if trying to determine what his next words should be. The woman at his side also studied Randor, and the king began to feel distinctly uncomfortable.

"I was sent to a planet called Etheria." Adam said finally. "The Sorceress needed me to find someone very important from Eternia's past."

"I see." Randor said, although he did not. "And did you find this person?"

"Yes, Father." Adam turned his head and smiled gently at his companion. "I found her."

Randor's eyes narrowed as he looked at the woman for the first time since her entrance. She was, the king thought, extraordinarily beautiful. There was something about the height of her cheekbones, and the strength of her features, that reminded Randor of his lost wife. He had to look away then, and when he looked back, he noticed that the girl was trembling. She pressed her arms deeper into her sides, as if she were literally holding herself together.

"Welcome to Eternia, young lady." Randor said gently, hoping to calm her. "Will you be staying here, at the Palace?"

The girl laughed nervously. "I hope so."

"Do you have family joining you?"

She shook her head. "Not…joining me, no. But I have family here."

"On the planet?"

"In the palace, actually."

"Oh?" Randor tried to think of any palace residents who had relatives from other worlds. "What kind of family?"

"A father… and a brother."

"Do they know you're here?"

She laughed again. "I just met my brother yesterday, so he knows that I'm here."

Randor's eyes widened. "You just **met** your brother?"

The woman nodded. "We were separated from one another as infants."

"What about your father? Have you…met him yet?"

The woman looked straight into his eyes then, and whispered so that only Randor and Adam could hear, "I'm meeting him now."

Randor took a step back, his eyes darting back and forth between his son and the mysterious woman. The two pairs of eyes that looked back at him were the exact same shade of blue, and the same golden shade of hair framed the teenagers' faces. Randor noticed for the first time that Adam and the girl were also of the same height, and appeared to be the same age. They even stood the same way: with their arms down by their sides, and their chins lifted ever so slightly. In fact, the only differences between them were directly related to their disparate genders; otherwise, the two looked so much alike that they might have been twins.

Randor suddenly found it impossible to breathe. He stumbled forward, gasping for oxygen. Teela made noises of concern, while Duncan made no sound at all. Randor ignored them both. For him, at that moment, the only two people in the room were his son and the woman who looked so much like him. He had a sudden, wild urge to pull the woman into his arms and babble into her hair a name he had barely spoken in eighteen years. Instead, he forced his lips to form words- a question that desperately needed to be answered.

"What is your name?"

Tears formed in the woman's eyes, and spilled over as she whispered, "Adora."

Randor never even hesitated. He was hugging the girl in less than a second, and father and daughter wept into each other's shoulders. When they finally pulled away from one another, Duncan and Teela were gone, and Adam was watching them, his own face damp. He went immediately to Adora, who grabbed his hand in hers. She held her father's hand in her other one, and smiled shakily at both members of her long-lost family.

Randor could barely take his eyes off of his daughter. He drank in the sight of her face, having only seen it once before. He had tried to imagine what Adora might look like as she grew older, but was never quite able to envision his daughter as anything other than a tiny baby girl, lying in her mother's arms.

The king looked at Adam. His son was gazing at Adora, but glanced up and locked eyes with his father. He turned away, but not before Randor noticed his son's eyes shining, bright as stars, with anger.

* * *

Adam paced the length of his room, unable to remain still. Adora was in one of the guest rooms, having separated from her family long enough to prepare for her first meal as Eternia's princess. Cringer huddled under his owner's bed, whining softly as Adam burned a trail across his quarters.

There were a thousand things Adam had wanted to say to his father in the throne room, none of them kind. It was Adora's presence alone that kept the prince from lashing out at Randor. Adora deserved to have a pleasant reunion with her father, and Adam would have gnawed off his own tongue before causing his sister any discomfort.

In less than an hour, however, Adam would have to sit at the same table as his father and act like he had not been lied to for eighteen years. He would have to smile and laugh and pretend that everything was perfectly fine; and he would have to spend a million other meals doing the exact same thing, because surely nothing would ever be the same if he made audible the rage he felt inside

Adam had always been the peacemaker, the one who was able to charm almost anyone out of a foul mood. Now he was the one with the sour disposition, and there was no one in the world that could ease his pain. He could not talk to Adora, because she might blame herself for this new conflict between her father and brother. Neither could he talk with Duncan and the Sorceress, whose duplicity in the matter of Adora's existence was equal to Randor's. Teela might understand, having never known her mother. That possibility was quickly rejected, mainly because Adam **did** know Teela's mother, and loathed the thought of whining about liars to a woman whose origins he could reveal in a heartbeat.

The prince was just beginning his thirtieth trek to the balcony when someone rapped on his bedroom door. He sighed, dropped down onto his bed, propped his feet up on the headboard, and called out "Come in," wondering even as he did so why he went to so much trouble to appear so relaxed. The door opened, and Adam sucked air through his teeth when he saw his father step hesitantly into the chambers.

"May I come in?" Randor asked. Adam shrugged, and the king closed the door behind him. He stood there for about a minute, clearly unsure what to say to his son. Adam crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

"You must be so angry." The older man said finally.

Adam lifted his shoulders in another shrug. "Why should I be angry?" he asked flatly. "Adora's home, and everything's alright now."

"Adam…"

"You don't have to say anything, Father." The young man stood and strode to the balcony, his back to his parent. "What's done is done, so why should I care that you lied to me for eighteen years?"

"I can explain."

"I'm sure you can." Adam returned. He stared out the window, mildly curious as to how his father would excuse his actions. Would Randor say that he simply could not bear to speak Adora's name, or that he was only doing what was best for his kingdom?

"I lied because I love you."

The prince turned. "What?"

Randor raised weary eyes to his son's face and repeated, in the voice of a broken man, "I lied because I love you." He stepped closer to Adam, watching the younger man carefully. "I never told you about Adora, because I did not want you to pine for someone you might never know."

"I'll never know my mother, but she was not included in the Sorceress's spell." The words were a clear challenge, yet Adam had trouble looking at his father's face as he said them.

"Erasing your mother's existence was never an option." Randor answered. "She was an amazing woman, and to pretend as if she never lived would have been an insult to her memory."

"But pretending that Adora never existed was not an insult?"

Randor did not respond for what seemed like forever. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, pleading. "The Sorceress always said that I might one day see Adora again."

The man said no more, and he did not have to, for suddenly Adam understood. His father could not bear to deny Marlena's existence, because it was all he would ever have of her. Randor had lived for eighteen years with the faint hope that Adora would one day return…and with the agonizing certainty that his wife never would.

"Can you ever forgive me?" Randor whispered, his eyes intent on his son's face.

Adam thought about all that his father had lost, and how strong he had remained. He thought of how Randor never hesitated to answer Adam's questions about his mother, even though every mention of his wife's name must have made the man acutely aware of both her absence, and Adora's. He realized that Randor had only kept secret things that would have hurt Adam to know. Adam then thought about the lies he himself had to tell, all for the love of his family and friends, and realized that he and his father were really not so different, after all. He was reminded once again of what the Sorceress had said before pushing him into Etheria, and whispered, "'Sometimes we lie to the ones we love, because we love them.'"

"What did you say?"

The teenager looked straight into his father's eyes, shrugged, and answered, in a voice filled with compassion, "I said, 'What's there to forgive?'"

* * *

Adora leaned against the doorway of the Royal Museum, running her fingers nervously over the object in her hands. She watched the man who stood inside the cavernous room, staring up at a massive metal structure. The princess folded her hands behind her back, hiding the object, and cleared her throat. The man turned at the sound, smiling gently as soon as he saw her.

"Hello, Adora."

"Hello, Father. Adam said that I could find you here." The woman walked into the room and came to stand beside the man. "What is this?"

"A spaceship." Randor answered, his voice wistful. "It's called the Rainbow Explorer."

"Who flies it?"

"No one." Randor sighed. "Not for a long time, anyway."

"What happened to the pilot?"

"I don't know." Randor said, and turned to look at his daughter. "I was hoping you could tell me."

Adora frowned. "Why would I know the fate of an Eternian pilot?"

"The person who flew this craft was not Eternian. She was from another planet entirely, and she was your mother."

"My mother?" Adora breathed. "My mother was a pilot?"

"The best there ever was."

Adora reached up with one hand and stroked the silver sides of the craft. She was in awe, yes. But she was also trying to form a gentle response to her father's question. Yet when she looked back at him, she saw that nothing she said would come as a surprise to Randor. _He knows what happened to her. _Adora thought, blinking back sudden tears. _He already knows she's dead, or he would have asked this question long before now. _Yet Adora also knew that Randor needed to hear for himself that his wife would never be coming home.

"She died." The woman whispered. She withdrew her other hand from behind her back and held out a gold crown. "I was told that she died when I was born."

Randor took the crown from Adora. Tears ran, unchecked, into his beard as he stroked the cool metal, clearly envisioning the cloud of red hair that the crown had once held in place.

"I know now that Hordak killed her." Adora continued, and began to weep. "He killed her, and I served him."

Randor stepped forward and pulled Adora into a tight embrace. "You survived," he whispered fiercely into her hair, "You lived to return to us, and I know that's what your mother would have wanted more than anything."

"I heard her voice once." Adora confessed into her father's shoulder. "I was very ill, and she was telling me to live."

"That sounds about right." Randor said. Adora thought she heard something like joy in his voice, and when she pulled away, she found that her father had begun to smile, clearly enjoying a private memory of his wife. She was surprised to find herself grinning back, and presently father and daughter began drying their eyes.

"What are you going to do with that?" Adora nodded toward the crown.

"I'm not sure." Randor answered, the joy in his voice fading a tiny bit. "Where do you think it should go?"

Adora did not have to be asked twice. She walked quickly across the room, retrieved an unoccupied pedestal, and carried it back. Randor quickly caught on to his daughter's plan, and silently helped her set the marble piece inside the curve of the spaceship's left wing. They stepped back and surveyed their handiwork. Tears were just beginning to resurface when Adora heard footfalls behind them. She turned and saw that Adam had slipped quietly into the room. He came to stand beside Adora, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The princess pulled away just enough to lean against Randor, bridging the short distance remaining between father and son. As the guards standing watch over the museum changed shifts, and the rest of the palace residents snuggled eagerly into their dreams, Eternia's Royal Family stood in the bright museum-turned-memorial, separated by their memories, yet united in their grief.

* * *

It took two days for the refugees to reach the Whispering Woods. Marlena spent exactly one of those days half-blinded by the bright sun. Her head pounded from the harsh stimulation of light flooding her eyes, which burned and leaked tears of pain. This, apparently, was what happened when one had not been allowed outside in eighteen years.

If Marlena's traveling companions noticed that she was pretty much being blinded by the light, they made no mention of it. Many of them had also been denied recent access to the outdoors, so perhaps they understood a little of what the woman was enduring. No one said much of anything at all, actually. They just walked, following the river. The man who had so vehemently cursed the Horde knew the way to the Whispering Woods, and had taken it upon himself to lead them. Marlena walked beside him, Zolana in her arms. The man's name was Adnan, and he sometimes glanced over at Marlena, as if he wanted to ask her something. He seemed somewhat in awe of her; they all did.

They slept as little as possible, the fear of recapture incentive enough to stay awake and on the move. They drank water from the river, and plucked berries from prickly bushes. The sun beat down on their backs. They all looked longingly at the river; the only exception was Marlena, whose black attire undoubtedly attracted the most heat. Yet she stared straight ahead, toward the direction of the Whispering Woods, and dreamed.

Marlena dreamt of her smart, brave daughter, who had finally discovered the truth about the Horde. She thought about Adora escaping to safety, to freedom. There was no doubt in Marlena's mind that her child would have headed straight for the home of the Great Rebellion. Adora was not one to just slip quietly into obscurity. She would want, need, to atone for the crimes she had unknowingly committed. Marlena's stomach cramped at the thought of her daughter, tormented by a guilt she should not have to feel. Adora had been bewitched for eleven years; she was not responsible for her actions. But Marlena knew that if she could just see Adora, talk to her, she could take her child's guilt away. Marlena was certain that she could make everything better for her daughter; she could make everything **right**.

She worried about how Adora would respond once she learned that her mother had been alive the whole time, and right before her eyes. Would the young woman be angry at the lies that Marlena had told? Could Marlena make her understand how necessary each and every falsehood had been? The mother told herself that she could endure it if Adora never forgave her, that her daughter's survival was the only thing that mattered. But, oh, how much better everything would be if Adora did not come to hate her after learning the truth!

Marlena imagined a life in which Adora could love her, not as a caregiver, but as her mother. She pictured them working side by side, aiding the Great Rebellion, ridding Etheria of the evil Horde. If the Rebellion possessed anything remotely resembling aircraft, then perhaps Marlena could put her piloting skills to great use; or she could implement what she had learned from her years in the infirmary to aid sick refugees and wounded rebels. Adora would excel in any task involving combat, and the girl was a born leader. As much as Marlena hated the thought of her daughter engaging in direct combat with Hordak or his minions, she also knew that Adora would never be content to sit in the forest while others battled the forces of evil.

So wrapped up in her dreams was Marlena that she barely noticed the foliage changing all around her. It was only when Zolana stirred in her arms that the woman saw, to her surprise, that pastel colored trees now surrounded the band of refugees. She looked over at Adnan, a question in her eyes. He nodded ever so imperceptibly, and Marlena's lips twitched as a smile fought its way to the surface. She had not been this happy in eighteen years. Suddenly she knew that everything would be all right. Adora would understand why Marlena had lied, and she would forgive her. They would be a family. Marlena even allowed herself to believe that one day very soon, Randor would find them, and then they would all return to Eternia, their true home.

By the time they reached the edge of a large camp, Marlena was all but glowing with joy. A winged woman and a lavender-haired young woman who looked to be about Adora's age came to meet them. Adnan spoke for the group, giving an abridged version of who they were and how they had escaped the Fright Zone. He cited Marlena as the heroine of the whole ordeal, and the women smiled at her in admiration. They introduced themselves- the woman with wings was Queen Angella, and the other woman was her daughter, Princess Glimmer- and offered food and shelter to the weary refugees. The band of survivors did not refuse, and began moving en masse into the camp.

Marlena looked carefully around the complex, searching for her daughter. She slipped away from the group, walking amongst rebels, peering into their faces. Queen Angella caught up with her as she was about to peer into a tent.

"Are you looking for someone?" she asked, her voice gentle.

Marlena hesitated. What if her daughter had not revealed her true identity to these people? It would be understandable, especially since she was known throughout the planet as Hordak's most skilled Force Captain. Marlena did not wish to endanger her child. On the other hand, she did not know how else she could find Adora. She had seen enough rebels to know that Adora would not be the only blonde-haired, blue-eyed, eighteen-year-old female in the camp. Besides, Marlena could easily testify on Adora's behalf, and convince Queen Angella that Adora was not the evil warrior that everyone believed her to be.

"I am looking for a woman named Adora." Marlena said slowly, trying to gauge her hostess's reaction to the name. "She escaped from the Fright Zone two days ago, and I believe she might have come here."

Queen Angella frowned and chewed her lower lip in thought. Then her eyes narrowed, and she said, "Are you referring to the former Force Captain Adora?"

Marlena tensed. "Yes."

Queen Angella shook her head. "She's not here anymore."

"What do you mean, 'anymore'?" Marlena asked, her heart beginning to pound in terror. What if these people, in their desire for revenge against the Horde, had hurt Adora? What if they had killed her? Marlena's hands clenched into fists, and she hissed, "Did you hurt her?"

Queen Angella's eyes widened in surprise. "Of course not. We would never do that."

"Then where is she?"

The Etherian queen's eyes narrowed again, this time in suspicion, and she murmured, "Why do you want to know?"

It took Marlena a second to realize why the woman was so being so cautious: she thought Marlena had come to take Adora back to Hordak. The irony of the situation was so rich that she had to swallow back laughter. She forced herself to relax, and then answered, "I was a prisoner of the Horde for eighteen years, and I cared for Adora as a mother would care for her own child. I was so happy to hear that she had escaped Hordak's clutches. I only want to see for myself that she is safe."

"Oh." Queen Angella relaxed a tiny bit. She shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid you're too late. Adora has gone home."

"Home?" Marlena repeated incredulously. "The Fright Zone was the only home Adora has ever known. Surely you do not mean that she has returned there!"

"Oh, no! Of course not!" Queen Angella sighed. "Adora has returned to her real home."

Marlena's brow furrowed. "Her real…" she began, then stopped as realization dawned. She frantically searched for another meaning for what Queen Angella had just revealed. There was none. Had Marlena been a different sort of woman, she might have collapsed in a faint right then and there. Instead, her entire body froze in sudden, psychic pain.

Queen Angella was still talking. Marlena wanted to beg her to stop, but her lips refused to deliver the words her mind was screaming. She could only stand there and listen as Queen Angella continued, "Adora's brother came and found her. They left Etheria two days ago, bound for the planet Eternia."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Chapter Thirteen **

They stood before her, three figures silhouetted against bright light. She could not see their faces, but she knew who they were. She screamed for them to help her, but they looked past her, as if she did not even exist. They turned their backs on her and walked into the light. She could not follow, for she was rooted to cold, barren soil. As the light faded, abandoning her to complete and everlasting darkness, a familiar voice hissed, "You are dead to them!"

Marlena jerked awake, gasping and flailing her arms at invisible demons. Too late she remembered Zolana, sleeping beside her. The child moaned softly, but did not awaken. Marlena sighed, relieved that she would not have to lull the girl back to sleep. She arose and moved away from Zolana, careful not to disturb the rebels and refugees sleeping all around her. The night was warm, but the chill from Marlena's nightmare clung to her like a second skin. She tiptoed to the center of the camp, where a small fire augmented the light of Etheria's two moons, settled a safe distance from the flames, and began rubbing her hands together.

She stared up at the sky. Stars twinkled back, shimmering like tears in the countenance of the night. The former astronaut imagined traveling through space once more, not stopping until she reached Eternia. This would be an impossible feat, and she knew it. For one thing, the Rebellion simply did not possess the technology necessary for such a journey. They did not appear to have any aviation equipment at all, unless one counted the talking broom Marlena had seen a plump, purple-skinned woman flying over the camp. Marlena could have constructed a spaceship on her own, but it would take years, and the materials she would require did not seem to exist outside of the Fright Zone. Not that any of this mattered, of course. Even if Marlena could have somehow procured a spacecraft, she had no idea where Eternia was in relation to Etheria, which meant that she could very well die in space, forever alone and adrift.

So here she was, stranded on an alien world; and here she would stay, bereft of her family. She could no longer deny the full reality of her situation, so she surrendered to it. She hugged her knees to her chest and bowed her head. Tiny tremors of mental and physical fatigue racked her body. Anyone passing by would have thought that she was weeping, but this was not the case, for Marlena was long past tears. Instead, she closed her eyes and forced herself to think about her future. This was not something she had done in a long, long time. Being a Horde prisoner meant living from day to day, never thinking about what could have been, or what might happen. On the few occassions when she did think about life outside of the Fright Zone, Adora was always included in her plans. She had not done one single thing in the last eighteen years without thinking about how her actions might affect her daughter. When Bridden beat her, she bore it, because otherwise he might decide to hurt Adora. When the physician denied her food for days at a time as punishment for some imagined slight or misdeed, she suffered through the hunger pangs, determined that it would be she, and not her child, who starved.

Marlena had imagined many scenarios during the long, bitter years of captivity. Obviously the one where she and Adora escaped, and were then rescued by Eternian forces, was the most prevalent; but she also knew that they might never escape in her lifetime, or might escape but remain on Etheria. She might never see her husband or son again, but she would still have Adora, and that would be enough. The one thing that Marlena had never, not once, envisioned was that her daughter would return to Eternia without her. She was not angry with Adora, of course. How could she be? If Adora had known that Marlena was her mother, she would never have left the Fright Zone without her. She might have been captured then, and punished. Marlena shook her head violently from side to side, trying to physically dislodge the horrid thought. Adora was safe now, and home with her family, and that was all that mattered. Besides, there was always the possibility that someone- probably Randor- would listen closely to any stories Adora might tell of 'Lena', and put two and two together. It was a slim hope, since Marlena had not been a strong presence in her daughter's life ever since Shadow Weaver had cast her spell. But it was hope, and without it, all was lost.

Marlena became aware of people speaking close to her. She pulled back into the shadows and listened carefully. She recognized the voices as those of Queen Angella and Princess Glimmer. Her eyes narrowed, then widened, as their words drifted over to her.

"Perhaps we are finally free!" Princess Glimmer hissed excitedly.

"I would not be too certain of that, daughter." Queen Angella warned, her voice low. "Hordak may have left the planet for now, but something tells me he'll be back."

"Hordak left Etheria?"

The two women turned and stared, surprised, at Marlena, who had leapt up and rushed to them.

"Yes." Queen Angella answered cautiously. "That's what our intelligence tells us, anyway." She frowned and scrutinized the woman standing before her. "Do you happen to know where he has gone?"

Marlena nodded. "Eternia." she whispered. She closed her eyes, and her face went pale as scenes from Hordak's last visit to the planet exploded in her mind. "He has gone to Eternia. He has gone to bring back Adora."

* * *

Adora had not been to many celebrations in her life. The events that passed for parties in the Fright Zone consisted of soldiers gathering in the mess hall, munching on cold meat and toasting the latest Horde victory with stale wine. These so-called festivities almost always ended in brawls, and Adora had never cared for them; had, in fact, done her best to avoid them. This was easy enough when she was simply another soldier, but her presence was expected once she became a Force Captain. She had spent countless nights breaking up drunken fights, wondering why a superior leader like Hordak would allow such things. Now that she knew how base a creature the Horde leader actually was, she regarded the 'parties' as yet another example of Hordak's depravity.

The gala she was currently attending, however, was another matter altogether. Men and women danced past the table where she sat with her father and brother, smiling into the faces of their partners. The large ballroom was decorated in tones of silver and gold. Gorgeous melodies played in the background, and a goodly portion of Eternos' population laughed and chattered as they glided across the polished floor. The womens' gowns were of colors Adora had never seen before, and their skirts rustled as they moved. She ran her hands across the cloth of her own cobalt-blue gown, made especially for her by the Royal Seamstress. She shook her head ever so gently so that she could feel, once again, how the blonde ringlets of her hair caressed her bare shoulders.

"Having fun?" Adam asked. He sat to her left; her father was to her right. She had worried, at first, that this seating arrangement indicated some sort of strife between her family members. Adam had assured her that this was not the case, that she was sitting between them simply because neither could bear to have her leave their side. Adora had blushed at that. She was unaccustomed to such verbal displays of affection.

She turned and smiled brightly at her twin. "Of course I am." she answered. "In fact, I think this is the most fun I've ever had."

"You didn't take much to eat." Adam observed, looking down at Adora's sparse plate.

"I wanted to save my appetite."

"For what?"

"The cake, of course!" Adora said, and winked.

Adam laughed. "Well, looks like you made the right choice." He nodded toward the door, where a rotund chef was wheeling in an enormous white cake, then turned to sat something to Teela, who sat beside him.

Adora leaned toward her father and whispered, "What is his name?"

Randor chuckled softly. "That's Chef Allen."

"Did he make the cake?"

"Oh, yes. Chef Allen is somewhat proprietary when it comes to events like this, and insists on making every dish himself."

"I'll have to remember to thank him later." Adora murmured, still staring in fascination at the elaborately decorated pastry.

The chef rolled the dessert right in front of the main table, then stepped back a few inches. King Randor squeezed his daughter's hand, stood, and cleared his throat.

"My people-"

He never had the chance to finish, for the cake transformed before their very eyes. Hordak stood in its place, surrounded by a motley crew of mutants. The man Randor had believed to be Chef Allen morphed into Skeletor. The trespassers all carried laser guns. Adora stood, looking to the door. If she could just slip away, she could transform into She-Ra. She felt Adam rise beside her, and knew that he was also planning to transform. She looked toward him just in time to see laser fire strike him in the chest. She cried out in both horror and rage. Turning, she glared indignantly at Hordak, who was now aiming his gun at Randor.

"NO!" she screamed, and desperately threw herself in front of her parent. She was too late. The laser hit Randor, knocking him into the wall.

"You next!" Hordak hissed. Adora reached for her sword. A laser hit her just as her fingers touched the hilt of her weapon. The sound of screaming, sobbing citizens filled her ears. She could feel herself falling. Then darkness fell like a curtain over her eyes, and she knew no more.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Chapter Fourteen**

Adora was terribly cold, and her head felt as if someone had tried to split her skull apart. She moaned softly and slowly turned her head to one side, not yet willing to open her eyes. She shivered when her cheek touched chilly stone. Where was she?

Above her, someone cackled. The sound sliced through her aching head like a pick-axe, and she winced. Someone else snorted. The sound was nauseatingly familiar, and suddenly Adora remembered everything. She opened her eyes, and was not terribly surprised to find Hordak leaning over her, his red eyes glowing in triumph. She sat up and glared at him.

"Hello, my dear." The Horde leader extended his hand. "Here. Let me help you up." He grabbed Adora's arm before she could pull away, and hauled her to her feet. She jerked away and snarled at him.

"Don't touch me!"

"I am sorry, my dear." Hordak grinned. "But I do ask that all Horde memebers either stand or kneel in my presence."

"First off," Adora stepped back and rubbed his touch from her flesh, "I am not your dear. Secondly, I am no longer a member of the Horde."

Skeletor, standing several feet away from Hordak, smiled at that. Adora turned angry eyes at him. "What are you grinning at, Skull Face?" In her eyes, Skeletor was just as responsible for her mother's death as Hordak, and Adora vowed to one day make him pay for the grief he had caused her family. At the moment, though, she had more pressing matters to attend to.

Adora turned back to Hordak. "Why are you here?"

"To take you home, of course." Hordak answered smugly.

"You're wasting your time, then." Adora returned flatly. "I will never, ever serve you again!"

Hordak looked at Skeletor. "Such a rebellious spirit." he said conspiratorially, as if Adora was not standing less than five feet away. "Just like her mother."

Adora stiffened. Hordak looked back at her. "Speaking of your mother..."

"We weren't." Adora snapped angrily. "Don't you even speak her name! Murderer!"

"Now, now, my dear." Hordak crooned. "It is not my wish to upset you, but there is something you should know before you decide not to return with me."

"Nothing you say could make me go anywhere with you!"

"Your mother still lives."

The words filled Adora with a primal rage. It was all she could do not to rip her former master apart with her bare hands. How dare he make a mockery of her childhood dreams? "Liar!" she hissed, and tried to turn her back on Hordak. He reached forward and pulled her toward him. She looked into his eyes, and for the first time since awakening in Snake Mountain, Adora felt real fear.

"Your mother still lives." Hordak repeated quietly. He was no longer grinning, and there was murder in his eyes. "And if you return with me, and agree to be my loyal servant, she will continue to live."

Adora tried to pull away, but Hordak's grip on her arm tightened, and she cried out involuntarily. She clenched her teeth and glared up at him. "You are lying. My mother is dead, and you killed her."

"Whoever said that Marlena was dead?"

"You did."

"Did I?" Hordak shook her, none too gently. "Think hard, Adora. Did I ever tell you anything about your family?"

He released her then. The princess stepped back and frowned. "You are lying," she repeated, but her tone was less assured now.

"Am I?" Hordak murmured. "I hope you're certain about that, my dear. Because if I'm telling the truth, and you refuse to return with me, then I will not hesitate to kill your mother. How will you feel then, Adora, knowing that Marlena died because of you?"

Adora bit her lower lip, considering his words. Surely this was nothing more than a desperate attempt to reclaim her loyalty. But what if it wasn't?

"If my mother is alive," Adora spoke slowly, deliberately, "then where has she been for the past eighteen years?"

Hordak threw back his head and laughed. Several of Skeletor's minions had gathered around their master, and they watched the Horde leader cautiously. Skeletor's eyes glowed in their sockets. He grinned with some secret joy. Adora felt her body flush with anger.

"You are going to love this, Adora." Hordak snorted between gasps of glee. "Your mother has been right in front of you the entire time. She-"

"Enough!" Skeletor roared. He snapped his fingers at his warriors. They stepped forward and grabbed Hordak. "What the-" he began, then stopped when he saw what Skeletor was doing. He struggled, but could not escape his captors. They dragged him toward the portal that his former pupil had opened.

"How does it feel to be betrayed, dear teacher?" Skeletor cackled. He snapped his fingers again, and his lackeys threw Hordak into the portal. Hordak tried to run back into the room, but the circle of light closed before he could. Adora watched the whole ordeal in horrified fascination.

Soon she felt the eyes of Skeletor and his servants upon her. The lord of Snake Mountain advanced. "'Skull Face,' eh?" he hissed. "I'll make you pay for that remark, you impudent little brat!"

Adora looked at him. Then she looked at his warriors, and knew that she could not escape. So she did the only thing she could: closed her eyes and fell to the ground.

Skeletor muttered something about 'weak females.' He snapped at one of his warriors to take Adora to the dungeons. Adora then felt herself being lifted off the ground. She suffered through being roughly carried down musty halls and winding stairs. Finally, thecreature carrying her dropped her on another cold, damp floor. She heard a door slam shut, and the warrior lumbering away. She opened her eyes and smiled.She stood, unsheathed her sword, and listened carefully. The only sound in the dungeons was that of water hitting stone. Satisfied that she was truly alone, Adora swung the weapon over her head and began to chant.

"FOR THE HONOR OF GRAYSKULL..."


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Chapter Fifteen**

Captain Teela stood just inside the Royal Garden, watching Princess Adora. The latter was staring intently up at the night sky, as if searching for something. She had been thus engaged for the last four hours. Teela knew this, because she had been guarding the princess for that exact length of time.

Not that Adora knew she was being guarded. Teela imagined the former Force Captain would have been appalled if she had known, so the redhead made sure to keep well out of sight. That decision, combined with the dim torchlight, made it difficult to determine the princess's disposition. Teela had learned, however, that if she squinted her eyes at just the right moment, she could occassionally see Adora's lips moving.

Teela was having a hard time quelling her suspicions of the mysterious newcomer. Who was she talking to: herself, or someone else? Teela knew that there was no one else in the garden- but there were other ways for individuals to communicate. Princess Adora might be skilled in telepathy, for all Teela knew. The princess had been behaving oddly ever since she was resuced from Snake Mountain three days ago. Teela's eyes narrowed. Was Adora regretting her decision not to return to Etheria with Hordak? Was she summoning the tyrant even now?

Unable to control herself any longer, Teela stepped briskly forward from her hiding place. The heels of her boots clicked on the stone courtyard, causing Adora to leap from the bench and draw her sword.

"Who's there?" Adora demanded. Teela walked into the light, and the princess visibly relaxed. "Hello, Captain. What are you doing here?"

"Guarding you." Teela answered. She was oddly pleased to see Adora bristle.

"I do not need to be guarded." The princess said coolly.

Teela shrugged. "That's not what your father thinks."

Adora sighed. "My father.." she murmured, sinking back down to the bench. She went to cover her face with her hands, then remembered Teela. She glared up at the other woman. "How long have you been...**guarding** me?"

"Four hours."

"Great." Adora muttered.

Teela started to snap that it had not been her choice to guard the princess, and that she had better things to do with her time, but the sadness and confusion in Adora's expression stopped her. Instead, she settled on the other end of the bench and regarded Adam's twin carefully. "Is something bothering you, Your Highness?" she asked gently.

Adora looked over at Captain Teela. She wanted desperately to talk to someone, and Teela might be the right person. Certainly Adora could not talk to her father or Adam, whose hopes would only be raised, then cruelly smashed, by Hordak's lies. Teela, though, was a neutral figure. She had nothing to gain, and nothing to lose, from what Adora might tell her.

"When I was in Snake Mountain," Adora began slowly, speaking to a point beyond Teela's left shoulder, "Hordak told me that my mother was still alive. He said that if I did not return with him, he would kill her." She glanced at Teela, whose eyes had widened slightly. "It was a lie, of course. A last ditch effort to regain my loyalty. But what if..."

"'What if?'" Teela repeated. She waved her hand slightly, gesturing Adora to continue.

"What if he was telling the truth?" Adora said. "What if she really is alive?"

"Is that possible?" Teela asked.

Adora shook her head. "Horde slaves are treated horribly. They're beaten, starved, tortured... The average life span for an imprisoned slave is five years, and my mother, strong though she may have been, would not have lasted beyond that."

"If you know that, then why are you still debating this?"

"Because Hordak said something else. Just before Skeletor opened the portal back to Etheria, Hordak said that my mother was right in front of me the whole time. Which is impossible, because those slaves I was telling you about worked in a different part of the Fright Zone, and I was never allowed to visit the slave quarters. In fact, it was not until after I escaped that I learned of the atrocities committed against Horde prisoners."

"You know all of this," Teela said quietly, "yet here you sit, no doubt trying to find some truth in Hordak's words." She leaned forward and looked straight into Adora's eyes. "For eighteen years, he told you that your mother was dead. Why would he say now that she lived, if not to trick you into returning with him?"

"Hordak never told me that my mother was dead."

"What?"

Adora looked back up at the sky. Hordak's words echoed in her ears: _Did I ever tell you anything about your family? _"Hordak never told me that my mother was dead." she repeated. "Someone did it for him."

"Who?"

"Lena."

"Who's that?"

"A woman who works for the Horde." Adora answered. "She cared for me for the first seven years of my life. It was she who told me that my family died soon after my birth."

"How did she say they died?"

Adora shrugged. "She never did say. I don't think she was allowed to talk much about them, or perhaps she simply did not know what happened."

"Or which lie to tell you." Teela said darkly.

Adora shook her head at this. She did not wish to believe that Lena, who had cared for Adora as if she were her own child, could have been a willing participant in Hordak's plot.

"So, you were told that your mother was dead, and you never saw her," Teela stated flatly, "Which means one of two things: either this Lena person lied to you for eighteen years, or Hordak was lying three days ago." Teela stood up and said, not unkindly, "Who do you believe, Your Highness? The woman who cared for you, or the creature who stole you from your family?"

Adora nodded. "You're right." She looked down at her hands and sighed. "Of course you're right."

The words should have made Teela happy, but they did not. Instead, for the first time since Adora's arrival, she felt a strange connection to the other woman, for she knew better than most what it was like to long for a mother.

Adora could feel Teela's eyes on her. She looked up and managed a tremulous smile. "I thank you for your help, but I'd really like to be alone right now." Teela frowned, and Adora hastened to add, "I'm not angry at you, and I know you've been assigned to watch over me, but I really can take care of myself."

Teela nodded. "Alright." She turned and strolled away, tossing back over her shoulder, "But if I catch it from your father for leaving you alone..."

"You won't." Adora called back. "I'll make sure of it."

She watched Teela disappear into the palace, then tilted her face to the sky and sighed. Teela was right: Adora had never seen her mother.

She had, however, heard her voice.

Adora gripped the rough edge of the bench and willed herself back to that time, so long ago, when she had hovered between life and death. She pushed away the terror and uncertainty of the experience, focusing instead on the voice that had sustained her, the words that had held back Death itself. This was Adora's only link to the woman who had given her life, and she clung desperately to it. She tried to delay the other part of the memory: the part where she woke up, and her mother was not there. Resistance was futile, however, and when it was over, she opened her eyes and lamented to the stars, "I thought she would be there, waiting for me, but she wasn't. No one was there!"

A cool breeze swept through the garden, and Adora shivered. She looked up at the balconies to Adam and Randor's quarters. The curtains were drawn. Given the moons' positions in the sky, it was most likely that the two men were already asleep. This sounded like an enviable state to Adora, who was suddenly exhausted. She stood and walked unsteadily toward the garden's entrance, struggling to keep her eyes open. She had not slept well as of late. Her dreams were haunted by the sound of a tyrant's laugh, and a woman's wails. "He was lying." she told herself now. "My mother died long ago, just like Lena said."

She took two more steps, then stopped as realization hit her with all the psychic force of a laser bolt.

_Lena was there. _

Adora lurched forward, falling against a tree trunk. Memory pushed at the edges of her psyche like a child being born, and she had no choice but to relive, once again, the moment of her awakening. There was light, and warmth, and her mother's voice; and then there was Lena, smoothing her hair from her face, murmuring words of concern. Adora maoned, a mournful sound from deep within.

"Lena."

" _I've told you before, Adora: your mother is dead. She died when you were born." _

"Lena."

_"Your mother has been right in front of you the entire time."_

Adora was five years old, splashing happily in a metal tub of water. She brought her hands down hard on the water's surface, causing liquid to spray into the face of the woman bathing her. Adora thought the woman would be angry, but she only chuckled. The woman scooped up soap and dotted Adora's chin, making her a foamy beard. Adora shrieked with laughter. She shook her head vigorously just as the woman leaned forward. Soap flew into the woman's hair...her bright red hair...

Adora threw her arms around the tree trunk, looked up into the rustling leaves, at the heavens beyond, and whispered,

"Marlena."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

For the first time since meeting Adora, Prince Adam realized just how much the young woman's life had changed. After all, in less than one week she had become She-Ra, defected from the Horde, met her real family, been abducted for the second time in her life, escaped from Snake Mountain...

_Maybe it's all finally caught up with her,_ he thought. This was the only reason, in his mind, for why Adora- sensible, rational Adora- was standing in the middle of his room at Ancients only knew what time of night, excitedly whispering a story that made no sense. Adam rubbed the sleep from his eyes and tried to follow Adora's frenzied tale. Something about Hordak...someone named Lena...their mother...Lena was their mother...

"Stop." Adam threw up his hands and shook his head, whch was already beginning to throb with the beginnings of a headache. "What are you talking about?"

Adora placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Were you even listening to me?"

"Do you even know what time it is?" he countered.

"Why does that matter?"

"Because this story will make a lot more sense when I've had about nine more hours of sleep."

"There's no time for sleep!" Adora yelled.

"Shhh!" Adam hissed. He glanced anxiously at the door. "You'll wake Father!" _Then tempt him with false hope,_ he thought. This was something Adam could not allow to happen.

Adora sat down on the edge of the bed, balling the thick covers up in her hands. "We have to help her, Adam. We have to save her."

"Save who, Adora?" Adam asked gently. "Some woman **you** think **might** be our mother?"

"She **is** our mother, and we have to go rescue her, before it's too late." Adora frowned and looked down at her hands. "If it's not already too late," she murmured, and shuddered.

"It **is **too late, Adora." Adam said softly. "Eighteen years too late."

Adora looked up and stared at him through narrowed eyes. "You don't believe me?"

"Don't you see, Adora? This is exactly what Hordak wants. He **wants **you to walk right back into his clutches. He **wants** you to risk everything, even your very life, in the desperate pursuit of a woman who died long ago." The prince leaned forward and took Adora's hands into his own. "Listen to me, Adora. Our mother would want you to stay here, with your family, where it's safe. And if this woman, Lena, truly cares about you, then she would want the same thing."

Adora gripped Adam's hands and looked imploringly into his eyes. "You are absolutely right, Adam." she whispered. "My mother and Lena **would** want the same thing for me, because they are the same person." She withdrew her hands, stood, and began backing toward the door. "I am sorry you don't believe me, but I understand how you wouldn't. After all, you did not hear her voice as you lay dying. But I did. She was alive then, she was alive three days ago, and she might just be alive right now." The princess turned her back on her brother and opened the door.

"Where are you going?" Adam asked. Adora looked over her shoulder. A feeling of dread settled in Adam's stomach when he saw the determined gleam in his twin's eyes.

"I'm going to save our mother, Adam." Adora said, a note of finality in her voice. "The way she once saved me."

"Wait!" Adam leapt up and rushed to his sister's side, almost stepping on Cringer in the process. He caught her by the shoulders and spun her around to face him. She frowned.

"What?"

Adam ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "I'll come with you," he muttered.

Adora's face instantly brightened. "Really?"

"Sure. I still think this is all some insidious plot of Hordak's," he continued in a stern voice, "but I will not let you go alone."

Adora threw her arms around him. "Thank you." she whispered in his ear. She pulled away and smiled at him. "I know you'll believe me once you see her." The smile faded, tears sprang to her eyes, and she muttered, "If it's not too late."

Adam still did not believe that what Adora was saying could be true, but at that moment, he prayed with all his heart that the woman named Lena was still alive. He knew that Adora would never forgive herself if she was not.

* * *

Somehow, Adam convinced Adora that they should wait until morning to depart for Castle Grayskull, and then to Etheria. "We need to plan this out." he argued. "And we really shouldn't leave without telling Father **something**."

The siblings did not sleep at all that night, and they were the first ones in the dining room the next morning, where they rapidly consumed their breakfast while darting anxious glances at one another and at their father.

The only person who noticed the twins' suspicious behavior was Teela. Duncan and King Randor were discussing that day's scheduled meeting with the Royal Council, which was expected to last all morning, and late into the afternoon. Teela glanced down at Cringer. She deduced that the large cat was not involved in whatever plot Adam and Adora were hatching, since he was eating quite happily from a bowl by his master's feet.

"Father?"

Randor looked over at his daughter, who had waited for a lull in her parent's discussion before addressing him. "Yes, Adora?"

"I would very much like to see some of the land surrounding the palace." She said, smiling sweetly. "Would it be alright if Adam showed me?"

"Of course." Randor agreed readily. "When were you planning on leaving?"

"Right after breakfast."

"Sounds good." The king took a sip of his water, swallowed, and added, "Take Teela with you."

"I think Teela is busy." Adam said. He looked over at his childhood friend, pleading with his eyes. "Aren't you?"

_He doesn't want me to go, _the redhead realized. At that moment, an army of shadow beasts could not have kept Teela from accompanying the royal heirs on their 'tour.' "Not at all." She grinned maliciously. "I'm free all day."

* * *

They saddled three Stridors- the mechanical horses that were another of Duncan's many inventions- and galloped away from the Palace immediately after breakfast. The twins chattered to one another, and to Teela, as if nothing at all was wrong. Yet they set an almost frantic pace, and Teela soon realized that they were headed straight for Castle Grayskull.

"That's it!" Teela said, interrupting a seemingly innocous discussion about Eternian flora and fauna. She stopped her metal steed and glared at Adam and Adora. "I'm not going any further until someone tells me **what** is going on."

The prince and princess looked at each other and sighed as one. "We're going to Etheria, Teela." Adora answered reluctantly.

"Etheria!" Teela's eyes narrowed. "Does this have anything to do with what we talked about last night?"

Adora nodded. "Hordak was telling the truth."

Teela frowned. "So Lena was lying the whole time?"

Adora's brow furrowed. Clearly she had avoided thinking about this. "Yes." She said finally, "She lied to me."

"Please don't tell our father, Teela." Adam said. "You don't have to come with us. In fact," he glanced over at Adora, who was chewing her lower lip, "I think we'd prefer to go to Etheria alone. But this is so important to Adora, and I won't let her go alone."

"Why not just tell your father the truth?" Teela asked, even though she already knew the answer. King Randor had suffered enough over the years, and it would be cruel indeed to raise his hopes.

"We need to keep going." Adora said then. Her face had settled itself back into the calm mask she normally wore. "Are you coming or not?"

Teela looked down at her com-link, considering. She could lose her post over this. Then she thought about the quest she had once taken to find her own mother. She had come away from that experience knowing nothing more than that her mother, whoever she was, loved her deeply- but that knowledge had been, and still was, enough to justify the journey.

"I'll go to Grayskull with you. And I won't tell your father." She smiled sadly. "After all, everyone should have the chance to meet their mother."

The trio made the rest of the journey in silence. No one spoke again until they were standing in the throne room of Castle Grayskull. Adora explained everything to the Sorceress, who listened impassively to the entire account. When the princess finished her tale, Grayskull's mistress asked Adam and Adora to accompany her to another part of the castle. Teela was surprisingly agreeable to being left alone.

They walked to the same room to which the Sorceress had followed the Sword of Protection. "I wish I could tell you if your mother still lives, Adora." The Sorceress's low, majestic voice filled the underground cavern. "Your destiny has always been tied to Eternia's, yet I only felt a connection to you three times in eighteen years."

"But you'll help me?" Adora asked anxiously. "You'll open the portal to Etheria?"

Grayskull's mistress nodded. "Of course, Adora. Your need to know your mother is great, and justifiable. Everyone should have the chance to meet their mother."

Adora glanced over at Adam, who gave her an 'I'll explain later' look. They stepped back as the Sorceress created the mystic gateway. She looked over at them, smiling wearily. "Are you ready?"

Adora stared into the portal. Beyond the swirling shadows lay the answers to the questions she had been asking all her life. Beyond the mist, dead or alive, was her mother.

"I've been ready."

* * *

Days started early in the Whispering Woods. There was always food to gather, uniforms to mend, herbs to grind into poultices for wounds... By midmorning Marlena was walking back to the camp, carrying a large basket of fruit. The others who had accompanied her into the grove were still filling their own baskets, working at a leisurely pace. Marlena, however, was too accustomed to the frenetic pace of the infirmary. She had plucked fruit from the trees like a woman possessed, though by what she refused to consider.

Queen Angella had informed her yesterday that Hordak had returned to Etheria, alone. For some reason, the Etherian queen had seemed to know how much Marlena needed to hear this. She was right, too. Marlena no longer stumbled through her chores, too focused on what might be happening worlds away to notice Queen Angella studying her. Now as she approached the camp, Marlena saw her hostess standing in the cool shadows of the trees, speaking to two people whose backs were turned to Marlena. Queen Angella caught her eye, and Marlena ducked her head. She walked into the food tent and placed the basket on the ground. The fruit would be made into jam, which would then be spread onto the bread the camp's residents ate for breakfast.

Light suddenly flooded the tent. Marlena turned, surprised, and saw that someone had pulled open the flap of the tent. That same person was standing in the entrance, a black figure silhouetted against the bright sunlight, holding back the flap of the tent. Marlena was suddenly reminded of her nightmare. She stepped back, wincing when a basket scraped her ankle. The flap was dropped, and the person stepped into the dimness of the tent. Marlena's chest tightened when she saw the face of the woman standing before her, the achingly familiar blue eyes that seemed to be really seeing her for the first time.

The woman stepped closer, pushed a strand of shining gold hair from her face, and smiled nervously.

"Hello, Mother."


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Chapter Seventeen**

Adora prided herself on her ability to look at a person and know exactly what they were thinking. This skill served her particularly well in combat, since her opponents usually had no idea that everything from the width of their stance to the lift of their chin spoke volumes to the young woman. She was especially good at reading faces, even those of the most stoic of warriors.

Yet the cold, proud face of the woman standing before her revealed nothing. Adora had no way of knowing how precious the title 'Mother,' coming from her lips, was to Marlena. She could not understand how desperately Marlena wanted to cross the short distance between them, or how she ached to hold her child in her arms. Adora also could not hear the gentle endearments pushing against her mother's throat, straining for release. What she heard instead was,

"Who told you?"

Adora frowned. This was not going at all the way she had imagined it would. Her mother was supposed to be embracing her right now, not asking meaningless questions.

"No one **told** me. Hordak hinted at it, when he came to Eternia. He wanted me to return with him, so he said that my mother was still alive. Of course, I didn't believe him at first, but last night I remembered something from five years ago, when I was so ill. Do you remember that time?"

Marlena nodded ever so slightly. She could tell by the hurt, angry tone of Adora's voice where this was going, but was powerless to stop it.

Adora felt her body begin to flush in anger. Why didn't the woman **say** something? She had to take several deep breaths before she could continue. "I heard what I knew was my mother's voice, and when I woke up, you were there. I had never really thought about that before, but it all came together last night. You saved me." She smiled a little at that. Marlena waited. She knew that Adora was not quite finished yet. After a moment, the smile faded, and Adora said, "You saved me, and then you lied to me. You blatantly lied to me. Not just then, either. You have lied to me for my entire life, and I want to know why."

The words sounded harsh even to Adora, and she hated that the reunion had taken this turn. She had told herself before entering the tent that she would not ask these questions; that no matter how angry she might be at the lies she had been told, her mother must have had a very good reason for telling them. But Marlena had spoken exactly three words in the last five minutes, and she had yet to show any kind of emotion. At that point, Adora would have said anything to make Marlena talk. So she did.

"Do you know how many times I longed for a mother? How much I needed to know about my family?" Adora laughed bitterly. "Of course you knew, because I told you. You had all the answers, everything I ever wanted to know, yet you kept the truth from me. You withheld your love. What kind of woman- what kind of mother- does that?"

She turned away, choking back sudden tears. For several long, painful minutes, the only sound was that of Adora's strangled sobs. How could her mother just stand there? Did she simply not care? Had she ever cared? Where was the woman from her childhood, who had read to her, sang to her, rocked her to sleep?

Adora gasped. Her childhood had ended when she began training as a Horde soldier. Her memory of the seven years before her indoctrination might be hazy, but everything that had occurred afterward was painfully clear. She had eagerly embraced her new life, learning everything she could about combat. She had swallowed every lie fed to her, never bothering to question what she was being told. In short, she had become the perfect soldier for Hordak. She was never defeated and had garnered many victories for the Horde, both as a simple soldier and as a Force Captain. She had been proud of that fact, too. So very proud.

But her victories meant the capture of thousands. She had truly believed what she told He-Man, that the Horde only imprisoned those who deserved it. She now knew that no one had ever deserved what the Horde's victims endured, but that knowledge did not change what she had done. It did not bring back the people who had died in slavery.

Adora groaned as another realization came to her. She had tried to avoid injuring the villagers that she captured in raids, but sometimes it could not be avoided. People who tried to escape the raids had to be captured, and that often required physical force. Not fatal force, of course, but enough force to send the new prisoners to the Horde infirmary: where Marlena was.

Adora began to shake. Her mother had seen it all, every atrocity Adora had ever committed. Adora had hurt people, and her mother had healed them. Every prisoner who entered the infirmary must have served as a reminder to Marlena of what her daughter had become. Adora whimpered softly. No wonder Marlena did not claim her. What mother would want to admit to having such a child?

The princess was preparing to flee when her mother finally spoke, so softly that Adora could not hear her. She turned back around and stared at Marlena. "What?"

"Your first word was 'Mommy.'" Marlena repeated. She had wrapped her arms around herself, and was gripping her elbows so tightly that her knuckles were white. She looked straight into Adora's eyes, never flinching from the emotions she saw there. "You had heard me say it so many times, and when you were nine months old you repeated it. You looked right at me when you said it, and I knew it was not just a word to you. You really knew who I was." Marlena smiled, the joy of that moment shining in her eyes. "I was so happy. There we were, trapped in Hell itself, but all that mattered was that my baby had just said her first word. You were so proud of yourself, too. You kept saying that precious word over and over again."

Marlena looked up for a second, blinked rapidly, then looked back at Adora and resumed her tale. "That afternoon, Hordak came to see us. You. He wanted to make sure you were healthy. As if I could not be trusted to care for my own child!" Marlena's anger at that was evident in her voice, and her emerald eyes flashed for just a moment before she was able to control her emotions and continue. "While he was there, you demonstrated your new ability. He was furious. He wanted your complete devotion even then. So he told me to lie to you, to tell you that your family was dead. I never, ever wanted to. Please believe that."

Marlena's voice had dropped to a ragged whisper as the rage and sorrow of that day washed over her. Her arms ached from holding herself so tightly, and eighteen years' worth of tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Yet this story had to be told if she and Adora were to have anything resembling a normal relationship, so she forced herself to continue.

"Hordak threatened to hurt you if I did not obey him, so I did. I trained you not to call me 'Mommy.' I told you the lies Hordak wanted you to hear, and you believed them. As the years passed, you became increasingly curious about your family, so I had to lie more and more. I could see how much sadness these lies caused you, and I even knew that you might one day hate me for the lies I told, but I always told myself that at least you would be unharmed." What she did not say- what Marlena would never tell her daughter- was that as Adora's beauty had grown more and more apparent to the males of the Fright Zone, Hordak had threatened... other things to ensure Marlena's continued obedience. He was never specific about these threats, but it had not been difficult for the queen to discern his meaning. That type of assault was one of the few horrors that Marlena had managed to avoid, and she was determined that her daughter would not have to endure it either.

"I don't hate you." Adora said softly. She hung her head and whispered, "But you must hate me."

"Oh, my child!" Marlena breathed. In two strides she was there, pulling Adora against her. "How could I ever hate you!"

Adora pulled away, in her guilt denying herself of the very thing she wanted the most: physical, tactile proof of her mother's love. "I captured all those people!" She cried out. "It's my fault they died! How could you ever love someone like me!"

"A spell was cast..."

"I know that!" Adora sobbed. There was no abating the guilt that assailed her. "But I should have been strong enough to break it!"

"You were a child, Adora." Marlena cupped Adora's face in her hands, forcing the younger woman to look at her. "A sweet, innocent child." She ran her thumbs across Adora's temples. Adora closed her eyes, and tears spilled over her mother's fingers. Marlena wanted to weep with her child, but instead spoke around the tears in her throat. "How could you be expected to break the evil spell placed on you? No one could expect that of you. Certainly I did not." Adora shook her head, unconvinced. Marlena embraced her tightly and murmured tenderly, "I wish I could take your guilt away, make everything right for you, but I cannot. But I love you very, very much, Adora. I have always loved you, even before you were born, and I will always love you. Nothing you have ever done, nothing you will ever do, could ever make me stop loving you."

"I asked you once if my mother would be proud of me, and you said yes."

"And I meant it." Marlena rubbed Adora's back soothingly, the way she had when Adora was a child. "I have always been proud of you, Adora."

Adora sobbed harder at that, releasing her sorrow, anger, and even some of her guilt into her mother's shoulder. She wept not just for herself, but also for her mother, for the lives they both might have led if Hordak had never come to Eternia. She was no longer angry at her mother for lying to her. How could she be? What mother would not have done the same in Marlena's position? All her life Adora had lamented not knowing a mother's love, but now she knew that her mother had loved her in the only way she could, in the only way that would not bring harm to her child. And Adora had never doubted that 'Lena' loved her.

She frowned at the thought, then pulled away and looked at Marlena. "Why did you change your name? Did Hordak make you?"

Marlena smiled at that. "You changed it, actually."

"Me?"

"Oh, yes. You couldn't pronounce my name, although it certainly was not for lack of trying!" Marlena laughed heartily, and Adora began to grin. "I had three names for awhile: 'Malena,' 'Marena,' and 'Mawena.' The third one was my personal favorite. Anyway, you finally settled on something entirely different."

"'Lena.'"

Marlena nodded. "Yes."

Adora looked down at her hands, which Marlena was holding in her own. She smiled. "Mother," she whispered. Tears fell onto her hands, but they were not her own. It was only then that she realized that Marlena had begun to quietly weep. This time it was Adora who initiated the embrace, Adora whose shoulders were soaked with tears. She started to cry again, and for the first time ever the two women held each other as mother and child.

Adora pulled back first. "Wait here, okay?" She whispered, and patted her mother's hand before breaking away. Marlena nodded and began wiping away her tears, only mildly curious about where Adora might be going.

The princess found her brother talking with Queen Angella. He stopped when he noticed her, frowning at the tear tracks on her face. He watched her carefully as she walked to him, a question in his eyes. She grinned broadly.

"It's her?" Adam asked.

Adora nodded, and for the first time Adam saw that her face was actually glowing. "It's her."

Adam's jaw dropped. He looked at the tent from which Adora had just emerged and tried to breathe. There, less than fifty feet away, was his mother.

Adora laughed at him. "Are you just going to stand there?" She smiled at Queen Angella. "Please excuse us, Your Majesty." The Etherian monarch nodded serenely, hiding her confusion well. Adora pulled at Adam's hands. "Come **on**."

Adam let his sister drag him to the tent, which she opened with a flourish. Adam stepped inside and found himself looking at a thin, auburn-haired woman who was only slightly taller than Adora. She was touching some sort of gold jewelry at the hollow of her throat, but stopped when she saw Adam. Her eyes widened, and her lips moved: two syllables, a name. His name?

Marlena's breath caught in her throat. All she could see were the young man's eyes... his deep blue eyes... eyes she had not looked into for eighteen years. "Adam," she whispered. It was not a question.

Adam was visibly surprised. "You know who I am?"

Marlena nodded. "I would have known you anywhere."

That was all Adam needed to hear to know that this woman was really and truly his mother. He moved forward at the same moment she did, and they were embracing each other a second later. Marlena whispered his name over and over again, and when they finally pulled away, she ran her fingers lightly over his, making sure he had the same number as when she last counted.

Adam did not know that was what she was doing. All he knew was how happy he was, how happy his mother and sister were, and how very happy his father was going to be. He reached over and took Adora's hand into his free one. Adora reached for her mother's hand, and they formed a small circle. For a moment no one spoke, but simply smiled at one another, unable to neither express nor contain their joy. "So, what now?" Adam finally asked.

Marlena tightly squeezed the hands of her children. "Now we go home."


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Chapter Eighteen**

Duncan paced the throne room of Castle Grayskull, his face contorted in an angry scowl. Occasionally he would glare over at Teela. She was leaning against the windowsill, looking oddly self-assured. Both she and the Sorceress categorically refused to tell him why Prince Adam and Princess Adora had gone to Etheria.

"They would not want you to know." Teela stubbornly declared.

"All will be revealed at the right moment." The Sorceress murmured in that annoyingly cryptic manner she had.

Their responses made Duncan want to hurl something- his helmet, perhaps- across the room. He had known something was amiss the minute the tracking devices placed on all Stridors revealed that his daughter and the twins were at Castle Grayskull, since the innocent excursion that Adora had proposed at breakfast should not have involved a visit with the Sorceress. His trepidation had turned to anger once he reached Castle Grayskull and learned that Randor's children were on Etheria.

"You realize, of course, that you could lose your position over this." Duncan said to Teela.

She shrugged. "I think King Randor will understand."

"Well, I don't!" Duncan turned on his heel and stalked over to his daughter. "Why did you not go with them?"

"They did not want me to."

"And that stopped you?"

Teela rolled her eyes and was about to fire back when the Sorceress stood. "They are ready to return," she announced. She strode to the center of the room, raised her arms, and opened a portal. Duncan frowned. Why were there **three** figures emerging?

The portal faded, and Adam and Adora stood in its place. An older woman stood between them. She was blinking rapidly, clearly trying to adjust to the change in light. The woman was holding the twins' hands, something they did not seem to mind. In fact, the prince and princess were smiling happily, looking as if they had just invented this woman.

Duncan glanced at his daughter. She was grinning broadly. He stepped closer to the woman, scrutinizing her carefully. She had stopped blinking and was now looking at her surroundings. She smiled uncertainly at Teela. Then her eyes fell on Duncan, and her smile widened.

"Hello, Duncan." The woman said softly. There was something familiar about her voice, but the man could not place it. His frown deepened. Who was this woman, and how did she know his name?

The woman then saw the Sorceress. She bowed deeply, rose, and smiled gratefully. "Thank you."

The Sorceress nodded. "Welcome back to Eternia, Your Majesty."

"'Your Majesty?'" Duncan repeated. He took another step and gasped as he noticed the auburn braid that fell down the woman's back, the green eyes that looked slightly haunted. Could this possibly be…

"Marlena?" The warrior whispered.

The woman nodded, and the two embraced in the manner of old friends. "Randor is going to be overjoyed to see you." Duncan confided in her ear.

"I hope so." Marlena said, pulling away.

After bidding farewell to the Sorceress, the group made their way to the Royal Palace. There was some debate over travel arrangements, since neither Adam nor Adora wanted to leave their mother's side, and Duncan and Teela were anxious to protect the reunited trio. Skeletor had not been heard from in four days, when he had been defeated by He-Man and She-Ra, but one could never be too careful. Luckily, Duncan had traveled to Castle Grayskull in the Attak Trak, a land vehicle that could easily seat seven people. So they left the Stridors and traveled to the Palace, where they learned that King Randor was still meeting with the Royal Council. Adam and Adora were all for interrupting the meeting, but Marlena stopped them.

"I've waited eighteen years, so I can certainly survive another two hours. Besides," she looked self-consciously down at her attire, "I'd really like to freshen up."

Adora nodded understandingly. "Of course. You can use my room."

Adam groaned. "That'll take forever."

Marlena arched an eyebrow at her son. "Do you really think I need that much freshening up?"

"No, of course not." Adam flushed and hastily tried to correct his faux pas. "It's just that, well, girls always take a long time to get ready…" He trailed off when he saw that Adora and Teela were glaring at him.

Marlena laughed gently and advised, "Quit while your ahead."

The queen and princess went up to Adora's room, where Marlena reacquainted herself with the luxury of a long, hot shower. When she finally emerged from the washroom, wrapped up in a robe Adora had found for her, she found that her daughter was gone. A stunning gold dress was draped across her bed. Marlena was running her fingers across the delicate fabric when Adora returned.

"That's one of the gowns Father had made for me." The princess explained. She walked over and placed two gold hair clips beside the dress. "It's too long for me. The seamstress did that on purpose. She said that I'm supposed to wear heels with it, and I just didn't have the heart to tell her that I hate wearing heels. It should fit you, though, since you're a little taller than I am."

"Thank you."

Marlena had not taken much care with her appearance in a long time, since the last thing she had wanted was to look attractive to her captors. Now, however, she dried her hair instead of twisting it into the wet braid that she had worn for the last eighteen years. The small pots of lipstick and eye shadow felt odd in her hands, and in the end she decided against the cosmetics in favor of a more natural look. _What he sees is what he gets_, she thought as she used the clips to pin her hair up at the sides. She returned to the washroom to slip into the gown, then came back out and studied herself in the full-length mirror.

Adora watched her mother carefully, noting that Marlena looked slightly overwhelmed at what she was seeing. "You look really nice," the younger woman said sincerely.

"Thank you." Marlena smoothed down the skirt. "It's just so odd to see myself without that black uniform." Equally strange was the soft cloth on her skin, the plush carpeting beneath her bare feet. _You had all this once_, she reminded herself. Suddenly everything- the gown, the room, the light streaming through the curtains of the large window- seemed too bright, almost surreal. Marlena was suddenly afraid that this wonderful world would fade away, and she would find herself back in the dark halls of Hordak's lair. She closed her eyes.

"Mother?" Adora rushed forward and caught Marlena's arm. She gently guided her mother to a sitting position on the bed. "Mother, are you alright?"

"It's just so much, all at once." Marlena whispered. "It feels like a dream."

"But it's not a dream." Adora embraced her mother tightly. "The nightmare's over."

Marlena nodded. "I know." She forced her eyes open and put her arms around her daughter. "I'll be fine."

"If you're not ready to see Father yet…"

"No." The queen pulled away and met her daughter's worried gaze. "I **need **to see him. Only then will I know that the nightmare really is over." She patted Adora's hand reassuringly, then looked at the rustling curtains and smiled wistfully. "And I think I know the perfect spot for a reunion."

* * *

King Randor dropped a large stack of papers onto his desk and sighed. He rubbed at the headache that had formed at some point during his meeting with the Royal Council. Duncan, lucky man that he was, had been able to leave right after demonstrating the new weapons that he had invented. Randor, however, had no choice but to stay for the entire session, which had lasted from just after breakfast to just a few minutes ago. 

It was not that the members of the Royal Council were unpleasant, because they weren't. They were, however, suspicious of anyone who they felt might be a threat to the future of the realm; and that, unfortunately, appeared to include Princess Adora.

"How do we know that she has truly abandoned the ways of the Horde?" Councilman Theron had asked. The other council members had verbalized their agreement with the elderly man, and Randor had spent a great deal of time trying to convince them of Adora's sincerity. Even now he knew that some of the Council had left unconvinced, but he realized that there was nothing else he could say to them. He could only hope that in time, the Royal Council would be able to look beyond Adora's past.

Randor wandered to the window and looked out into the garden, a sight that always calmed him. It was late afternoon, a time when most in the Palace were preparing for dinner, so he was surprised to see a woman standing in the garden. Randor watched curiously as she slowly walked the circumference of the fountain. The gold gown she wore swayed as she walked, as did the mass of red hair that fell down her back. Occasionally she would look toward the garden entrance, as if waiting for someone. Randor idly wondered who she was. He was certain he'd never seen her before, but there was something about the way the sunlight tangled in her hair that caused his heart to stir.

Noises from the hallway made him turn from the window. He heard excited whispering, and then his children were standing in the doorway. Both wore mysterious smiles, and one of Adora's hands was curled into a fist, as if she was holding something.

"Hello, Father." The twins said in unison.

Randor laughed and ushered them inside. "How was your excursion?"

"It was… interesting, to say the least." Adam responded.

"Did you see much of the kingdom?" Randor asked Adora.

"Um… not really." She looked down at her hands.

"Oh?" Randor frowned, disturbed by something in Adora's tone of voice. "Why not?"

The princess looked her father straight in the eye and answered, "Because we went to Etheria instead."

"What!" Randor walked briskly around the desk and stared incredulously at his offspring. "Why would you do such a thing?"

Adora laid a hand on Randor's arm. "Father…" she tried to soothe him. He caught the hand in his own, a frantic gesture that mirrored the alarm on his face.

"Do you understand the danger you put yourselves in?" He squeezed his child's fingers. "What if Hordak had found you? What if he had taken both of you?"

Adam spoke up then. "But he didn't, Father. We never went near the Fright Zone."

Randor threw up his hands at that. "But why did you go to Etheriaat all?" He demanded.

Adora tried again to explain. "It was important…"

"Nothing is that important!" Randor turned on his heel and stalked back to the window, visibly fuming. How could his children be so calm about what they had done? How was he supposed to punish them for this? They were adults, after all. Adora had lead entire armies, for Ancients' sakes! What was he going to do: send her to her room? The king slammed his fist against the windowsill and looked out at the garden, searching for some answer amongst the flowers.

The woman was still there. She now sat on the fountain wall, idly twirling a ronsa flower between her fingers. As Randor watched, she slipped the blossom into her hair. She turned her head and looked into the fountain, then leaned back and began to trace large circles onto the water's surface. Next she stood and shook the water off her fingers. She tilted her head and studied the fountain for a moment, considering. Then she stepped up onto the wall and began to slowly walk across the marble.

Randor suddenly found it rather hard to breathe. He gripped the windowsill and stared at the woman, transfixed by the hauntingly familiar poise with which she moved.

"Father?"

He forced himself to look away from the window and at his daughter. She had joined him behind the desk. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement.

"Is there someone in the garden?"

"A woman," Randor answered. _A ghost_, he thought.

Adora held out her clenched hand and uncurled her fingers. "This is for you."

Randor's brow furrowed when he saw what Adora was offering him. He took the item from her and held it up. Two rings dangled from a worn strip of cloth. Both rings were pure gold and small in circumference, as if made for slender fingers. The smaller of the rings was a simple gold band, similar to the kind a husband and wife might exchange at their wedding. The larger ring, though… Randor drew a short, sharp breath. The larger ring bore the Eternian crest in the center. Symbols were etched around the band, ancient emblems of power and protection. There were only two such rings in existence, as had been the case ever since the rings had been forged for the first king and queen of Eternia. Randor was presently wearing one of the rings. Marlena had been wearing the other when she and Adora were taken. Randor now noticed that the cloth from which the rings hung might once have been an emerald green, and that auburn strands of human hair were tangled in the knot that held the ends of the cloth together.

It seemed to Randorthat an eternity passed before he was able to form words, to force the crucial question from his lips. "Where did you get this?"

Adora's close-lipped smile turned into a grin as she answered,

"From the woman in the garden."

* * *

Marlena stepped down from the fountain wall and sighed. She stared into the pool of water, squinting, trying to find the carefree woman she had once been. It was impossible. She finally conceded defeat and wandered over to a bench that sat under a large tree. 

The scent of the flowers, the gentle breeze, and the soft babbling of water might have been relaxing if Marlena had not been so nervous. She placed a hand on her quivering abdomen, closed her eyes, and took long, deep breaths through her nose. She lifted her face to the sun and let the warmth wash over her. For the first time since returning to Eternia, she allowed herself to feel the fears she had been trying to deny.

What if Randor did not come? What if he did not believe that she was still alive? She had given Adora her rings and asked her to present them to Randor, partially because she knew that her children wanted to participate in the reunion, and partially because she feared that Randor would not accept the truth unless he was presented with undeniable proof. He might still doubt, though.

Even if he did believe that Marlena was alive and waiting for him, there was no guarantee that he even wanted to see her again. What if he hated her for leaving him and Adam, for failing to protect Adora from Hordak's manipulations and Shadow Weaver's spells?

An agonizing thought came to mind, causing her to moan softly and breathe rapidly. What if Randor had remarried? She shook her head violently from side to side, causing the ronsa blossom to shift in her hair. Surely her children would have told her if Randor had another wife. Surely they would not leave her unprepared for that fact.

What if Randor no longer loved her? What if they had grown too far apart to ever be able to fully reunite? They had, after all, spent more time separated from one another than they had ever spent together. Surely Randor would have changed in the last eighteen years; Marlena certainly had. She no longer saw herself as the strong, confident, and hopeful woman whom Randor had married. There were parts of her soul that were frozen, portions of her psyche that had been wounded beyond repair. What if she and Randor were no longer compatible?

Marlena leaned back and let her head fall so that the sun warmed her throat. She missed the weight of the rings that had only recently been nestled in the hollow of her throat; she felt almost naked without them. It was odd, Marlena thought, that she had endured so much physical and emotional torture over the years, yet had never felt more vulnerable than she did right now, safe within the walls of her home.

Someone was watching her. She could feel eyes on her, but kept her own closed for a moment longer. Then she lifted her head, dug her palms into the rough surface of the bench, and forced her eyes open.

A figure stood in the entrance. She would have recognized him even without the prominent crown he wore. His eyes were intent on her face, and he was perfectly still. He appeared to be waiting for her to make the first move. She pushed herself to a standing position and began to walk toward him. She could feel herself going numb, could almost hear her emotions shutting down. A defense mechanism, she knew; one at which she was exceptionally skilled. Marlena had learned long ago that if she could not feel emotional pain, then she could not be hurt by it.

Randor watched her begin to move. He wanted to rush forward and gather her into his arms, but he feared that doing so would frighten her. Despite the proof of the rings in his pocket, he was still not entirely convinced that she was not a ghost, and he was afraid that she might disappear if he moved too quickly. So he walked slowly forward, never taking his eyes from her face.

They met in the center of the garden, stopping two feet from one another. Anyone who saw the man and woman at that moment might have mistaken them for statues, so still and so quiet were they. Husband and wife took stock of one another, each trying to judge what the other was thinking, both unwilling to speak for fear of breaking the spell.

A breeze raced across the garden just then, blowing through the trees, ruffling Marlena's hair and uprooting the ronsa flower nestled there. She followed with her eyes the blossom's rapid descent to the ground below, then looked back at Randor. Strands of hair clung to her cheek. Randor reached out and brushed the hair away, an automatic gesture that made his fingers tingle with the thrill of physical contact. He continued to move his fingers across her cheek even after the last stray tress had been tucked away. Marlena turned into the caress, warming his palm with her breath, planting soft kisses into the cup of his hand. Encouraged by this, Randor moved his hand to the curve of her skull and held his breath as he gently guided her head to his shoulder. He did not exhale until Marlena's face was buried in his shoulder and her arms were twined around his neck. Then he began to weep. As his body was racked by tears, he pulled Marlena closer, desperate for the feel of her body against his. He rubbed circles into her back with one hand, and stroked her hair with the other. Her body trembled violently, and he did not understand why until he felt her tears seeping through the fabric of his tunic.

Marlena cried without sound. Her soul was thawing, and the walls she had built around her fragile psyche were crashing down. She pressed closer to Randor's body, craving his touch the way an addict must crave their drug. She could feel his fingers brushing against her scalp, tangling in her hair. She stepped on the ronsa blossom, crushing it, setting free its strong, sweet fragrance. The scent drifted up to Randor and Marlena, and a floodgate of memories opened for both of them. For a second they were young again; for a brief eternity they were the only two people in the world, and their world was perfect.

They stood that way for a long time. When they finally moved, Marlena lifted her face to Randor's. He bowed his head and kissed her temple, near her eye. He slowly brushed his lips down her face, kissing away the trail of tears. He finally reached her mouth and covered it with his own. The kiss was long and tender. Each could taste the other's tears.

It was Randor who pulled away first. Marlena watched as he slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out the ribbon and rings. He untied the cloth and let the rings drop into his palm. He took Marlena's hand into his own, raised it to his lips, and kissed her fingers. Then he slipped the wedding band onto one of her fingers. "My wife," he whispered. He lifted her other hand, kissed it, and slipped the Ring of State onto another finger. "My queen."

They moved back into an embrace. Neither spoke. They held each other instead, gently swaying as one, while above them the leaves rustled in the breeze, clapping their approval.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Chapter Nineteen**

King Randor should have been exhausted. Not only had he been in a grueling meeting for most of the day, but he had also been reunited with a woman he had believed to be long dead. Despite these facts, Randor had never felt more energized.

He stood against the doorway to his bedroom, watching Marlena as she moved around the dimly lit space. She stopped at the foot of the large bed, pressed her hand into the thick comforter, and bit her lip. Randor thought he knew why she was so anxious. He wanted to tell her that they did not have to sleep in the same bed just yet, that he would sleep in the garden if it made her feel better, but he stayed silent. Next, Marlena moved to the side of the bed and lifted the picture from the small table there. Her lips lifted in a sad smile as she ran a finger over the image. She gently replaced the picture and moved to the large window. She placed her hand against the glass and stared out at the night sky. Randor shivered. His wife looked so fragile in the moons' light, just like the ghost he had earlier thought her to be. He desperately wanted to know what she was thinking, for right now he felt that they were still so very far apart.

"May I go out onto the balcony?"

Randor frowned. Why was she asking such a question? Of course she could! Then he realized that Marlena was not asking if she was able to step onto the balcony, but if he would allow her to. For the first time he remembered that his wife had spent eighteen years imprisoned by tyrants; that she would have had to gain permission for every move she made, for every word she spoke. Randor met her pleading gaze and smiled gently.

"You may go wherever you wish, Marlena."

Marlena's fair skin reddened at the pure love in his voice. She held out a hand to him, a beckoning gesture. "Join me?"

Tears misted his eyes. "Always."

The breeze was cool on their faces. Randor tentatively wrapped his arms around Marlena, careful not to squeeze too tight lest she shatter in his arms. She leaned into the embrace and softly sighed.

"This is so beautiful," she whispered, "I've missed looking at the stars."

"I imagine the stars in the Etherian skies are different." Randor replied.

"That they are." Marlena agreed. "What little I saw of them-"

"'What little'?" Randor repeated. "Surely over eighteen years you would have seen a great many of them."

Marlena shook her head. "Hordak did not allow me to step outside the Fright Zone, or look out any of the windows. I never even saw the sky until four days ago." She immediately wondered why she had told him that.

Randor pulled her closer to him. "Oh, Marlena," he breathed. The thought of his wife, who had spent most of her young life in love with the heavens, being denied even a glimpse of the sparkling skies made his heart turn in agony.

"It's all right." She tried to reassure him. "Things might have been a lot worse." She stopped just short of revealing that they very often were.

"Did they hurt you?" He whispered the question into her hair.

Marlena thought about how careful Randor was when touching her, as if he thought she might be scared if he held her too tightly. She loved him for that, but she yearned for his touch. "Not in… not in the way I think you mean." She answered, and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"But they did hurt you?"

Marlena shrugged. "A few slaps and blows. Nothing serious."

He stepped back and gently lifted her chin so that she was looking into his face. She met his scrutinizing gaze without flinching.

"What they did to me," she said deliberately, "is nothing compared to the pain I would have endured if they had hurt our daughter. Adora was unharmed. That's all that matters."

"Marlena-"

She pressed a finger to his lips. "Let's not do this right now." She pleaded gently. "Later, perhaps, I'll tell you all you wish to know. But tonight, all I want is to look at the stars with you, and pretend that this is the way my life has always been."

He nodded. "Of course, my love."

Satisfied, she moved back into his arms. They stood that way for awhile, perfectly content to stare into the vast heavens. When next Randor glanced down at Marlena, her eyes were drifting closed.

"Are you tired?" He asked, concerned. "Perhaps we should go back inside and get you into bed."

"Not yet." She murmured sleepily, struggling to open her eyes and look at him. "I'd like to stay out here a little longer. Please?"

"Alright, but let's sit down, at least." He led her over to a long bench and helped her to sit, never moving his arms from around her body. She rested her head against his shoulder and placed one hand on his chest. Randor stroked her hair and sighed contentedly. He could have happily spent the rest of his life on that balcony, with the woman he loved more than any other wrapped safely in his arms.

Husband and wife spent another half-hour sitting under the stars. Marlena's breathing steadied, and Randor was not surprised to find that she had fallen asleep. He kissed her forehead, but she did not stir. He smiled, lifted her into his arms, and stood, then stepped back into the bedroom and placed his slumbering wife on the bed. He thought that she was so beautiful laying there, her fiery tresses falling across the bodice of the gold gown.

He frowned. That gown did not look like it would be comfortable to sleep in, and it seemed to him that the clips in her hair might dig into her scalp. He sat down beside her, careful not to shift the mattress too much, and gently removed the clips. There, that was better. But the gown still needed to be removed. He could find her a nightgown to wear, but Randor was not comfortable with undressing and dressing her. He feared that she would awaken in the middle of the process and panic. He decided that, as much as he hated to do it, he would have to awaken her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and shook her gently. "Marlena." Her eyes snapped open, and Randor knew that he had made a mistake.

Someone was holding her down. She could feel large hands on her shoulders. A man's hands. A man who was going to hurt her. _Bridden!_ She jerked her head to one side, trying to avoid the blow she was sure was coming. She wondered what she had done wrong this time, or if this was one of the physician's random attacks. She closed her eyes and waited for the assault to begin, forcing herself not to fight her assailant. He'd hurt Adora if Marlena resisted…

Randor was horrified to see Marlena's eyes gleam bright with terror, then dull in resignation. He knew that she was not seeing him, but someone else. As he called her name and gently shook her back to reality, he realized that the person his wife imagined hovering over her, pinning her to the bed, was someone who had hurt Marlena very badly, and for a very long time.

Her name. The man above her was calling out her name. Bridden had never bothered to learn her name. "You're just a slave," he'd told her, "here to do my bidding." Marlena turned her head and looked up into the man's face until it became clear, until there was no mistaking who he was.

"Randor."

He gathered Marlena against his body and held her. "I'm here," he whispered tenderly, "I'm right here." She shook violently, but did not cry. Randor felt horrible. "I did not mean to frighten you," he told her in a voice filled with shame, "I only wanted to wake you so that you could change into something more comfortable."

Marlena pulled back just enough to place a hand against her husband's cheek. "It's alright. I'm fine now." She looked into his eyes and winced at the guilt there. "You did nothing wrong. I was just… confused for a moment."

He nodded and gently rubbed her arms. Marlena stared over his shoulder, trying to compose herself.

"Perhaps I should change now," she said finally, "Adora said that she would leave a nightgown in the closet for me." She arose, kissed Randor's forehead, and walked into the large closet. She returned a second later with a long, flowing white gown, which she carried into the washroom.

Randor changed into his own night clothes while his wife was absent, then sat on the bed and awaited her return. When she stepped from the washroom, her face was cold and impassive; yet even from across the room Randor could see that she was still shaking. At that moment, he knew that there was no longer a question of who would sleep where. When Marlena sat on the edge of the bed, he moved close and pulled her against his body. The night was not so cool that they had to sleep under the covers, though Randor did unfold the blanket at the end of the bed and wrap it around Marlena's shoulders. Then they both lay down and stared out the window.

For a full hour, Marlena trembled like a leaf in her husband's arms. He kissed the back of her neck, massaged her shoulders, and breathed endearments into her hair. He whispered that he loved her, that he'd never stopped loving her, that he would personally make sure that no one ever, ever hurt her again. Eventually Marlena's body relaxed and she drifted off to sleep. Randor, however, lay awake for hours, unable to stop himself from envisioning all the ways in which Marlena might have been tormented by her captors.

"Never again." He vowed to his sleeping wife. "I promise you."

Then he thought of Skeletor, so intent on destroying his family. The villain would no doubt stop at nothing to get his hands on Marlena, the one person who had thus far been immune to his recent schemes. "I promise you," Randor repeated. Marlena shifted slightly and moaned softly, as if even in her sleep she knew how powerless such a vow truly was to stop those bent on her demise.

* * *

The morning dawned bright and clear, with not a cloud to be seen. Randor realized as soon as he awakened that something was not right. He was alone in the bed, which was wrong. Someone had been there before, sleeping in his arms. _Marlena_ had been there. Had it all been a dream, then? 

A noise at one corner of the room informed him that he was not truly alone. He sat up just enough to see an auburn head bowing over an open trunk. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief, then watched silently as his wife pulled a small blue blanket out of the trunk. She held the cloth to her face and breathed in its scent, then placed the blanket across her bent legs and continued to remove the contents of the trunk. Randor smiled to himself as his wife lovingly handled each and every trinket from their son's childhood. He slipped out of bed and crossed the room to join her. She looked up and smiled sweetly.

"Good morning." She held up a strip of leather with a word crudely etched into it. "What's this?"

Randor grinned at the curiosity evident in her face. He knelt beside her and ran a finger across the object in her hands. "This would be Cringer's first and only collar. Adam made it himself, but Cringer was never one for any type of restraint. If you look at the ends, you can see where he chewed right through the leather."

"Cringer?"

"Oh, that's right. You didn't meet him last night. He usually comes to dinner, but he sometimes becomes nervous at the prospect of meeting new people."

"So he's some sort of pet?"

"He's a tiger." Randor laughed softly. "Big, green, and scared of his own shadow."

"Our son has a tiger as a pet?"

"Yes. Adam rescued Cringer when he was just a cub, and they've been inseparable ever since."

Marlena frowned. "I've missed so much." The sadness of her tone matched that of her expression. She placed the collar back in the trunk, then began to return the other items, gently stroking each piece before relinquishing it to the darkness of the antique chest.

Randor watched her carefully. He knew exactly how she felt. They had both missed seeing their children grow up together. Eighteen years had passed, time that could never be recovered. As Marlena lowered the lid of the trunk, Randor suddenly had an idea. Tonight, he decided as they both stood and began to prepare for the day, he would give Marlena something almost as precious as all those missed years.

* * *

Adam walked into the garden and groaned. Several female courtiers were huddled near one of the large trees, giggling behind bejeweled hands. They spotted him immediately, and their giggles increased in volume. The prince might have left right then, but the sight of his mother sitting at the fountain forced him to continue. The young women were paying no attention to Marlena. This surprised Adam until he realized that no person his age would recognize the middle-aged woman as Eternia's queen. To them, Queen Marlena was a legend: beautiful, tragic, and far removed from the world in which they lived. Adam wondered how long his father would wait before announcing Marlena's return to the Eternian people. 

The courtiers fluttered from the garden, to Adam's vast relief. Marlena stood and reached out to take her son's hand. "There's my popular son."

Adam's face flushed. "Is that some sort of Earth humor?"

Marlena laughed. "Surely you know how much those young women like you. You're all they talked about for the last hour."

"Really?" Adam twisted his foot and smiled bashfully. "What…um…what did they say?"

"That you're funny, intelligent, witty, clever. Oh, and handsome. The girl in the red dress said she'd like to bear your children-"

"Mother!"

Marlena shrugged. Her eyes glinted mischievously. "Who was the young lady I met yesterday at Castle Grayskull? Teela, wasn't it? She seemed like a lovely person, but those women are really jealous of her."

"Why?"

"They think you're going to marry her."

Adam thought his face would melt from the heat of embarrassment. "They **said** that!"

"You can hear lots of things when people don't know who you are."

Adam frowned. "What else did they say?"

"What do you mean?"

"I bet they didn't use the word 'brave' to describe me." He pulled his hand free and looked at the ground.

"What is this about, Adam?"

"I'm something of a clown." He sat down with a sigh. "I run from battles, or sleep through them. Everyone calls me a coward. I just thought I'd let you know, before you heard it from someone else."

Marlena reclaimed his hand and ran her fingers across his knuckles. "I didn't know that."

Adam tried to pull away again, but his mother would not let him. Instead, she stared intently at the side of his face until he felt compelled to turn and meet her gaze. He was stunned by the pure, unadulterated affection he saw there.

"What I do know," Marlena continued gently, "is that twice you came to Etheria and reunited your family, at great risk to yourself. Adora told me this morning that you did not believe that I was still alive, but you accompanied her anyway. That took a tremendous amount of courage."

"Any brother would have done the same thing. Besides, I didn't save Adora at all. He-Man did."

"Ah, yes." Marlena laughed softly. "The famous He-Man. That's the other person those girls were talking about. I haven't met him yet, though I suspect that I will soon enough. They said you're friends with him?"

Adam nodded.

"Well, from what I've heard of him, I cannot imagine that this He-Man person would befriend a coward."

They were both silent for a long moment. Then Adam grinned sheepishly. "So they said I was cute, huh? How cute?"

The look of confusion that crossed Marlena's face was brief. "Of course." She nodded sagely. "You have a reputation to maintain, don't you?" She smiled. "I did mention the girl who wants to have your babies, didn't I?"

"Yes!"

They both laughed, then Adam's face softened. "How did you get to be so wise?"

"It's not wisdom so much as it is observation. I've learned a lot over the years about watching people, trying to determine what they're going to do before they do it." Marlena stood before Adam could ask what events had made her hone such a skill. "I think it's time for lunch. Is your father usually in attendance?"

"Always. I don't think anyone wants to miss lunch, not even the people Father is meeting with now."

"Good."

As they walked side by side from the garden, Adam marveled at how talented his mother was at shifting the conversation away from that which she clearly did not wish to discuss. Perhaps he had something in common with this strange, proud woman after all.

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?" 

"Of course, dear."

"Because you don't have to, if it's not what you want. We can wait awhile longer."

"I don't think so, Randor." Marlena tilted her head in the direction of the balcony. "Listen to them. They've been waiting all day for this announcement. One more hour, and they might actually riot."

"She's right, Father." Adam and Adora chimed in as one.

Randor knew that. He had wanted to keep Marlena's return a secret for a few more days, giving their family some much-needed privacy. But even though the younger generations of Eternians might not recognize Marlena, their parents certainly did. He knew rumors were flying, and he was fairly certain that the gossip and speculations could be traced directly back to the older palace servants and courtiers who had crossed paths with the queen. When the aged Lady Ailsa had walked into a wall after seeing Marlena, Randor had finally admitted that it was time to confirm the rumors.

This was why the entire Royal Family was assembled near a balcony that looked out on the entire city. They were dressed in their finest. Randor wore his crown, and the twins both wore solid gold circlets. Adora's hair was piled on top of her head. Only Marlena's head was bare, and her hair fell around her face, tamed only by the gold clips Adora had given her the day before. Randor had retrieved her crown from the museum and was holding it behind his back.

Duncan stepped inside from the balcony. "Are you ready, Your Majesty?"

Randor glanced over at Marlena, who smiled nervously. Adora had wrapped a reassuring arm around her mother, since she had endured this ordeal only a few days before. The king looked back at Duncan. "As ready as we'll ever be, I think."

Tradition dictated that Marlena travel at her husband's side, but this would destroy the dramatic effect the family was going for. So Randor stepped out onto the balcony first, followed by Adam and Adora. The crowd began clapping, cheering, and shouting out questions. Marlena's heart pounded in her ears. The last time she had been exposed to such a large crowd, her daughter was dedicating her life to the Horde. The woman took five deep breaths, counted to ten, and regally joined her family to face their people.

The sun was just beginning to set, spilling its dying rays over the city, casting shadows on the faces of the crowd so that Marlena could not see her audience. They were undoubtedly able to see her, however, for the entire city seemed to fall silent when she came to stand before Randor. Teela and her father were standing off to one side. The younger woman looked about to burst with excitement. Duncan was considerably more sedate, but he winked at Marlena when she saw him.

Randor looked deep into his wife's eyes. "It's not too late to leave, my love." He murmured softly.

Marlena knew that he was offering her more than a reprieve from the crowd. He was giving her the chance to lead a different life, one where she was not the target of everyone who hated him. Yet she'd had that chance once before, when Randor had proposed marriage. She had known the risks then, and she knew them now. The road to her destiny might have taken unexpected turns, but the destination had never changed.

So it was with certainty and pride that Marlena stared into Randor's face and answered, "My husband. My king." Then she bowed her head.

Randor brought the diadem into sight and placed it on Marlena's head in one fluid motion. He wanted to savor the sight of the gold circlet against her bright hair, but sudden tears prevented him from doing so. She lifted her face and turned to look at the crowd. Smiling, she took Randor's hand in her own, then reached over and grabbed Adora's. The princess caught Adam's hand. Then, for the first time in their collective history, the Royal Family of Eternia stepped forth together. A stubborn sunbeam washed over them, illuminating their joyful faces. Below them, the crowd went wild.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Chapter Twenty**

Marlena stumbled through the darkness, guided only by the warm hand clasping her own.

"Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise." Randor's voice was low and reassuring. "You used to like surprises."

"I still do."

"Then trust me, and keep your eyes closed."

"For how much longer?"

"We're almost there, my love." His hand pulled gently at hers, urging her forward. "Just a few more steps….okay, stop here." She heard a door open, and then another hand pressed against her back. "Step inside…that's right…just a few more steps… alright, stop. Now open your eyes."

Marlena found herself standing in the largest of the palace meeting rooms. A large balcony was attached to the room, and the light of the two moons cast a romantic sheen over the space. She looked at Randor, who was smiling secretively. He nodded to the center of the room, where two chairs sat facing the front wall. He laced his fingers through hers and led his wife to the chairs.

"Sit here, please."

She took the chair to his right, noticing as she did that a large, black hoop sat in the other chair. Randor picked up the device and sat down. He removed his crown, set it on the floor by his feet, and replaced it with the black device.

"This" he tapped the ebony band that rested atop his dark hair "is called a memory projector. It's one of Duncan's inventions."

"What does it do?"

"Sit back and I'll show you."

She obeyed, but continued to watch his face. He looked forward.

"Look ahead," he murmured, and closed his eyes.

Several seconds passed, and then an image splashed before Marlena's eyes: an infant lying in a crib, wrapped in a blue blanket and cooing happily. The queen recognized him immediately.

"Adam."

The image held for almost a minute before fading into another. This time, the prince was a few months older and lying on the floor of the nursery. As Marlena watched, he rolled unsteadily onto his back. He laughed, clearly delighted, and returned back to his stomach. Marlena could hear her husband's laughter in the background; then a younger Randor joined his son on the floor so that father and child were looking each other in the eyes. The king rolled over, robes flying, and came to rest facedown. Adam squealed with glee, pounded the floor lightly with his little baby fists, and mimicked his father. The two males rolled almost to the other side of the nursery before Randor, lying on his back, lifted Adam up and over his broad chest. The child wriggled in excitement. Randor brought him down to his chest, where Adam immediately took the gold medallion the king wore and put as much of it as possible into his mouth. Randor laughed. He pulled the medallion away, took a pacifier from the pocket of his robe, and deftly placed it in Adam's mouth before the baby could protest. The child laid his head on his father's chest, sucking contentedly on the pacifier as his eyes closed.

By now Marlena had figured out what she was seeing: Randor's memories of their son, made visible. She gripped her husband's hand. "Thank you," she whispered, never taking her eyes from the image.

Randor raised her hand to his lip and kissed her knuckles. "There's more," he said, eyes still closed.

And more there was. For almost an hour memories shimmered in the moon-lit room. There were all of Adam's 'firsts': his first word ("Daddy"); his first step, taken in the garden; his first birthday, where he tried to push his entire hand into the cake; his first tooth, which he tried to move with his tongue. There were images of Adam and Teela playing in the garden, the throne room, the city square, and their respective bedrooms. Next came the school years: Adam with his head bent over a book, or thoughtfully chewing on a pen. There was Adam at what looked to be ten years old, holding a small, green tiger cub to his chest. Now here he was, looking slightly older and grinning at a floating, red-robed being with a giant 'O' on his chest.

Marlena watched as her son quite literally grew up before her eyes. The sounds of his childhood and adolescence washed over her. She laughed at his antics, smiled as he repeatedly demonstrated his intelligence and compassion. Tears of both delight and sorrow spilled down her cheeks, and she was weeping openly when Randor finally cleared his mind and opened his eyes. The king removed the projection device, rose from his chair, and knelt before his wife. She sank down to the floor, into his arms, and released as much of her anguish as possible. There was nothing silent about her grief this time; she sobbed loudly, almost hysterically, for she knew not how long. When she finally pulled back and looked up, she saw that Randor had also been crying. They wiped each other's tears away, then stood and gazed at one another.

"Thank you." Marlena said again. "You cannot imagine how much this means to me."

"It was the least I could do. You missed so much, all because of me."

"Because of you?"

"All these years, Marlena, I could not help but think how things could have been so very different for us all." He gripped her hands tightly, rubbing her wedding band with his thumb. He took several ragged breaths before continuing. "What if I had been there when they invaded the nursery? What if I could have defeated the Horde sooner? What if I had ordered more guards, gotten you and the children somewhere safer, come back to you as soon as the Horde armies fell? What if-"

Marlena tilted her face to his and silenced him with a kiss. "What if I had been quicker?" She murmured into his ear. "What if I had escaped Skeletor's grasp two seconds sooner than I did? What if I had given birth after the war? What if the stars had aligned themselves in such a way that none of this would have ever happened?" She leaned back and smiled sadly. "'What if' is a fool's game to play, Randor. It does not change anything, and it only makes us feel more wretched inside." He started to speak, but closed his mouth at the determined look in her eyes. "Blaming ourselves for the past will not allow us to live in the present or hope for the future. We are not to blame for what happened, Randor. They are- Hordak and his kind."

Randor nodded. It was difficult not to see the logic in Marlena's words, and he was so tired of bearing the burden of guilt and shame. Marlena drew him into her arms, guiding his head to her slender shoulder and holding him the way a mother might hold an exhausted child. "I don't blame you." She reassured him. "I never did."

The queen held her king for a long time. "I could use the projector to show you Adora's childhood," she said after awhile, "I only really saw seven years of it, but-"

Randor lifted his head and looked deep into her eyes. "Show me."

So she did. He saw Adora say her first word, take her first step, grin widely to show her first tooth. His little girl splashed in a bathtub, bounced on a cot, raced down long, black corridors. She sat patiently while Marlena brushed and braided her hair. She whirled and twirled around a small room, laughing as the skirt of a long, red dress moved with her. The look on Marlena's face when the last image faded was one of incredible love mingled with unbearable sorrow.

"What happened then?" Randor asked gently.

"She saw something she was not supposed to see, and they placed a spell on her, bending her to their will." Marlena opened her eyes and looked at him. "I could not save her. I tried, but I failed."

Randor had already surmised that much. He leaned over, laced his fingers through hers, and said, "What happened to **you**?"

Marlena bit her lower lip and sighed. She ached to share her experience with Randor, but she had to be sure of one thing before she did.

"If I tell you, will you blame yourself?"

He shook his head, then reached over and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "Tell me."

A silence the length of some lives passed. Then slowly, haltingly, Marlena began to speak.


	21. Chapter TwentyOne

**Chapter Twenty-One**

A week passed. For the Eternians, it was the most peaceful week they'd had in two years. Skeletor had yet to make any of his usual, unwelcome appearances. No one was fooled into thinking that the villain had actually abandoned his plans for world domination, but at least he was on a temporary hiatus.

The lives of the Royal Family slowly approached something akin to normalcy. Queen Marlena began to attend meetings with her husband. The Royal Council eagerly welcomed her back, a courtesy she discovered they had not extended to her daughter. It saddened her; but like King Randor, she understood their hesitation. She, too, realized that naught but time would ease the minds of the doubtful.

Many people were introduced to Marlena. She finally met the infamous Cringer, a creature that certainly lived up to his moniker. He seemed to like her, though, a sentiment that had no doubt been influenced by Adam. She also met Orko, a floating magician who had been visiting a relative on his home planet when Adora and Marlena first arrived. He performed a trick involving an entire tray of pastries, most of which ended up on Duncan when the spell backfired. Marlena surmised from Duncan's long-suffering expression that such mishaps were not unusual.

An afternoon came when no meetings had been scheduled, and court was not being held. Adam and Teela spent the time showing Adora the Evergreen Forest, while Marlena took the opportunity to wander the palace. She eventually found herself standing before the entrance of the Royal Museum. Her old spaceship gleamed temptingly in the light, causing her eyes to burn with sudden tears. She nodded to the guards, then stepped past them and into the large room, making sure that the door slid closed behind her.

Randor found her there an hour later, sobbing into the side of the spacecraft. His heart broke to see his wife pouring out her sorrow to cold, uncaring metal. He knew she was deeply ashamed of her tears, which she perceived as an unforgivable weakness.

"I don't know what's wrong with me." She had lamented just yesterday, when a chance meeting with the midwife who had helped deliver the twins caused her to tear up for the third time in two hours. "I've cried more this week than I have in the last eighteen years."

Randor strongly suspected that the previous lack of tears might be part of the problem. As he walked briskly forward and pulled her into his arms, he thought about how different Marlena and Adora's experiences with the Horde had been. He knew his daughter had suffered. Raised to believe that her parents were dead; placed under a spell and tricked into serving the very creature who had abducted her; almost dying at one point because of neglect and ignorance. He knew that Adora wept sometimes for the life she had been denied, and that both she and Marlena were struggling to adapt to their new lives.

Yet Randor also had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that Adora had been treated relatively well by Hordak. She had never been beaten or starved, nor had she even known that such atrocities were happening all around her. Marlena, however, had been made well aware of Hordak's cruel nature. She **was **beaten and starved, and not just by Hordak. Randor, who was not by nature a violent person, had fantasies of killing the man called Bridden, and often had to remind himself that Marlena had already done it for him.

"I did not intend to kill him," she had confessed when telling Randor about her life as a Horde prisoner, "But I'm not sorry that I did."

Randor did not think that one of the abductees had suffered more than the other, for both had endured so much. He supposed that it came down to this: Adora had never been aware that there was anything amiss with her life, or that she should have been leading another one, until she broke free of the Horde. Marlena, meanwhile, had known all along that their lives could have been- and should have been- so very different.

His wife started to pull away just then, drawing Randor's attention back to the present. "I'm sorry," she whispered, beginning to dry her eyes on her sleeves, "I did not mean to…"

"It's fine," he gently interrupted, "There's no need to apologize."

"I just can't stop crying."

"You will." He raised her hands to his face and kissed her wrists, savoring the sensation of her pulse beating against his lips. "As time goes on, you'll begin to heal. We all will."

"Heal," she repeated wistfully. Such a beautiful word that was, yet such an elusive concept. It was hard to believe that there might come a day when she was not plagued by nightmares of the past. She thought about the years that stretched out before them, a future filled with promise and possibility. She imagined Adam and Adora marrying, starting families of their own; grandchildren running through the palace, their youthful merriment ringing in the corridors. She smiled at the thought of growing old with her husband, content in the knowledge of his companionship and love.

Marlena suddenly realized that, for the first time in almost two decades, she had a choice: mourn the years that had gone, or rejoice in the years to come. She could neither recover nor change the past, but she could certainly fill her future with the love of her family. Her smile widened. She laughed and, in a sudden burst of passion and joy, threw her arms around Randor's neck and kissed him soundly. Randor laughed with her, delighted at the change in her demeanor.

"We really **are** going to be okay, aren't we?"

"Of course we are, my love." Randor answered. He pressed his forehead to hers and whispered, "Because we're all together now."

* * *

Adora stared down at her plate, where heaps of hot food waited to be consumed. Conversation flowed around her, but she could not even begin to concentrate on it. Her family did not appear to notice her silence, though she knew it was only a matter of time before they would. Adora forced herself to look up and at her family while they chattered animatedly. She narrowed her eyes and studied each of them in turn.

Her father was laughing at something, probably a comment from Adam. The light caught the jovial sparkle in his eyes. He was holding Marlena's hand above the table, stroking her fingers while he conversed with their son. For what was probably the first time in years, Randor looked truly happy and at peace with his world.

Her mother was leaning forward, smiling as she concentrated on her husband and son. Her hair was pinned on the top of her head. Her tiara sparkled brightly amongst the red tresses, and she wore this symbol of power as confidently as if it had always been there. She looked as if she was starting to gain back a little of the weight she had lost, and her skin no longer had the wan hue of someone who has never felt the warmth of the sun. Marlena's smile shone out from her beautiful face, and her laughter was that of a woman in love with life.

Her brother was punctuating whatever he was saying with wide, rapid hand gestures. Unlike his sister, Adam had already consumed much of his meal. Adora had never told Adam, but she had suspected that there was tension between her brother and father. Tonight, however, this conflict had disappeared. Adam's speech was confident, and Adora knew from past dinners that he was including their mother in the conversation as effortlessly as if Marlena had eaten every meal with him. Adam had never met a stranger- that was part of his charm.

Adora's stomach knotted. What was wrong with her? How could she even consider this? Surely there was another way! But bearing the Sword of Protection meant that there was only one way, one path for her to follow. She almost started to weep then, for she knew that what was undoubtedly the right course of action was also the one that would hurt her family the most.

"Adora?"

The princess had the feeling that Marlena had said her name several times already. She flushed guiltily.

"Yes, Mother?"

"You've been rather quiet this evening. Is something wrong?"

They were all smiling gently at her, their faces filled with love and concern. She sighed and squared her shoulders before answering.

"I was just thinking about the war on Etheria." Adora wanted to stop there, but Marlena was nodding encouragement, so she continued. "The rebels are full of such hope and optimism, but they are fighting a war they cannot win… without help."

"What kind of help?" Randor asked. It was clear from his tone that he was immediately eager to assist. "We are at war with Skeletor, and I don't know of too many soldiers who would be willing to fight on another world. But we can certainly send any supplies that might be needed."

"That is very kind, and I'm sure the rebels would be grateful for whatever assistance you can provide." Adora swallowed several times before continuing. "But I was thinking that… well… that I'd like to help them, too."

Adora looked at each of her family members. Randor looked confused, Adam looked like he might have an idea of what Adora was trying to say, and Marlena… Adora's throat closed up. Her mother's face had become as pale as in the days of her imprisonment, and she was shaking her head slowly from side to side.

_Oh, Mother!_ Adora raised a hand to her aching throat. _Please forgive me this betrayal! _She stared into a corner of the room- looking at all of them, looking at none of them- and forced the words from her clenching throat.

"I am going back to Etheria."


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

"She is not going back there!"

Randor paced back and forth in his chambers, face contorted in a scowl, while Marlena sat on the bed and watched.

"This family will not be divided again! I will not allow it!"

"How do you propose to stop it?"

"By forbidding her from going, of course!" Randor snapped angrily. He stalked to the window, crossed his arms over his chest, and glared at the night sky. Marlena crossed the room to stand behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him to her, and pressed her cheek into his strong back. When she spoke, her voice was soft and calm.

"She's not asking our permission."

Randor twisted around to face her. "Well, she should be. We are her parents, after all."

"And she is an adult." Marlena gently reminded him.

Randor stared at her incredulously. "Are you actually agreeing with her?" He grabbed his wife by the arms, careful even in his anger not to hurt her, and breathed, "Is this really what you want?"

"Of course not!" Marlena pulled free of his grasp and glowered at him. "This doesn't even begin to be what I want!"

"Then why aren't you protesting it?"

"What good would that do, Randor? She's going to Etheria, with or without our consent."

"So that's it, then?" Randor snapped back. "She's going whether we like it or not, so we might as well just accept it? Is that what you're saying, Marlena?"

"If you'd actually listen to me, you might understand what I'm saying." Marlena whirled away from him and marched back to the bed, continuing over her shoulder, "But, no. You'd much rather yell at me than even attempt to see the logic in what I'm trying to tell you."

"I just don't understand why you're not more upset about this."

"**More **upset!" Even from across the room there was no mistaking the pure rage stamped across her countenance. "You have no idea how **upset** I am! How dare you act as if you do!"

"Because you're…" Randor stopped himself from finishing that sentence. He knew it would be a horrible mistake to tell Marlena just how cold and heartless he thought she was being. She was neither one of those things, and he knew it.

Marlena gripped the gnarled wood of the bedpost and glared at her husband. Her shoulders rose and fell, and Randor could hear her heavy, ragged breathing. He walked across the room and stood before her.

"Marlena, my love." He covered her hands with his own and looked down into her face. "Why are we fighting about this? We both want Adora to stay here; and I think that, in her heart, that's what our daughter really wants, as well."

Marlena shook her head. "It may be what she **wants**, Randor," she whispered sadly, "But it's not what she feels is right."

"She feels guilt about what she did for Hordak." The king sat down beside his wife and sighed. "Acts she could not help committing. Things she should not be held responsible for."

"But I know our daughter, Randor. I know that no one blames Adora more than she does herself, not even those who suffered the most from her actions." She pressed closer to her husband, as if to draw strength from his presence, and continued, "But I think there's more to it than just guilt. Adora said that her destiny lies on Etheria, freeing that planet from the Horde."

"She once thought that her destiny was to fight **with** the Horde, not against them." Randor countered.

"Yes, because she was tricked and bewitched into thinking so." Marlena returned. "No one's telling her she has to return to Etheria. No one would condemn her for staying here, with her family."

"But she'd condemn herself." Randor said softly.

Marlena nodded. "She's a very determined young woman, Randor, with a very strong sense of honor and duty. We should be proud of her for that. After all, we both know that we'd do the same thing in her place."

"That doesn't make this any easier." Randor grumbled.

"It will never be easy. But Adora can leave here either thinking that we love her despite the decision she's making, or that we hate her because of it. And if she believes the latter, then our family really will be divided once more."

She was right. Randor knew that, and he hated it. If Adora had only been plagued by guilt, then he and Marlena might have been able to dissuade her from leaving. But she thought she was fulfilling her destiny. How could they keep her from that?

Randor sighed wearily. He wrapped his arms around Marlena and kissed the top of her head. "I still don't want her to go."

"Neither do I." Marlena turned and pressed her face into Randor's chest. "But she has to."

* * *

The sun was just coming over the horizon when Adora placed the last of her belongings into a knapsack. She was dressed once more in her red uniform; the silk gowns that had been made for her were hanging in the closet. Her circlet sat on the thick covers of her neatly-made bed.

Adam also sat on the bed, watching sadly as his sister prepared to leave them all. He knew better than anyone that Adora had to go, and he cursed the Ancients for that. Wasn't one champion in the family enough? Why had it been necessary to give Adora the Sword of Protection? Couldn't his mission simply have been to reunite their family?

"It's my destiny, Adam." Adora said softly. "I'm starting to think that everything that's happened to me is part of some greater purpose."

"And you accept this destiny?"

"Yes." Adora came and joined him on the bed. "Adam, I wasn't given my powers just so I could have the life I've always wanted. When I accepted the Sword of Protection, I was also accepting a tremendous responsibility. I may not have known that then, but I do now."

"You could fight evil here."

Adora laughed. "I think He-Man has things under control. Eternia doesn't need me, Adam. But Etheria does."

"Your family needs you."

"I know that. And the only part of all of this that I regret is not being able to stay here." Her gaze suddenly turned anxious, and her eyes filled with tears. "Do you think they hate me, Adam?"

The prince did not have to ask who Adora was referring to. "I doubt they could ever **hate **you, Adora. But you saw them at dinner. You know how unhappy this makes them."

Adora began to weep. "I know, Adam. I wish…"

Whatever she had been about to say was interrupted by a soft rapping at the door. Adam went to answer it while Adora dried her eyes. Her brother returned a second later, followed by their parents. Randor frowned. Marlena studied her daughter critically.

"You've not slept at all, have you?" The queen asked.

Adora could not speak, so she simply shook her head. Marlena sighed.

"You mustn't do that, Adora. How much help can be you to the Rebellion if you're falling asleep in battle?"

Adora gaped at her mother. "What?"

"Your mother and I talked about it, and, well," Randor cleared his throat, "While we're far from thrilled about your decision, we do respect it. Following this destiny will make you happy, and that's all we've ever wanted for our children."

Adora walked to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Father," she whispered.

"It's your mother who deserves your thanks." Randor said gruffly. He clutched her tightly for a second longer, then freed her.

Marlena immediately took his place. "I love you," she said fiercely. She kissed Adora's forehead and sobbed. "We'll miss you terribly, my child. I know you'll be busy with the Rebellion, but you will visit from time to time, won't you?"

"Every chance I get." Adora promised. She pulled away and smiled awkwardly at her parents.

"I suppose you should be leaving now." Marlena said reluctantly. "Do you want us to go to Castle Grayskull with you?"

Adam and Adora looked at each other. "Actually, Mother," Adam spoke for the first time, "I thought I'd go to Grayskull with Adora, and then to Etheria. You know, just to make sure she gets settled in."

Marlena laughed. "She's not going to sleep-away camp, Adam," she said, earning her a confused glance from both husband and offspring. She sighed. "Earth phrase."

"Clearly." Randor responded.

The family made their way to the courtyard, where a guard had Spirit waiting. Adora and her parents shared a final embrace before she and Adam climbed onto Spirit's back. Adora gave a command to Spirit, and the horse began to gallop from the courtyard. Adora stopped him at the gate. She whipped her head around and looked back at her parents. Her mother was leaning against her father, arms wrapped around his waist. Neither had turned from the sight of their daughter's departure. They were each other's strength, Adora knew. She whispered a prayer to the Ancients that she might one day know the happiness that Randor and Marlena found in one another, and a love that could defy the obstacles of time, space, and Fate itself. They waved to her, hands and heads held high. Adora waved back, then urged Spirit forward and out of the city.

Neither prince nor princess spoke during the brisk ride to Castle Grayskull. When the fortress came into view, they slid off Spirit's back and walked slowly to the entrance. The Sorceress must have been waiting for them, for the drawbridge began to lower as they approached. As the ancient wood came closer to the hallowed ground, Adora stared into the swirling blue mist inside. She found reassurance in the fact that Castle Grayskull, the most sacred place on Eternia, was also the bridge to Etheria. Just as it linked the two planets, so also would it forever bind Adora to the land of her birth.

Adora did not know what would happen once she stepped through the portal to Etheria. The rebels would accept She-Ra without hesitation. Would they accept her with the same faith? She knew it wasn't likely. Yet that, too, was somehow part of her destiny.

Adora laughed softly. Destiny seemed like such a chancy thing. It could change in an instant, shifting in the time it takes a mother to leap for her child, or a warrior to lift a sword. It could lie sentient for years, biding its time while lonely men cling to the memories of lost wives and daughters. But it was destiny- unique and undeniable- and Adora's lay in Etheria.

Spirit whinnied as the drawbridge touched the ground. Adora realized for the first time that her steed was probably the only one truly excited about returning to Etheria. She stroked his mane, squared her shoulders, and took a deep breath. In the seconds between inhaling and exhaling, Adora saw Adam walking into another world, not knowing what he would find, guided only by the ideals of truth and honor. She saw Marlena stepping out onto a balcony high above Eternos, unsure if the people below would know her for who she really was. Finally she saw Randor holding out his arms to her, accepting her without question, embracing past, present, and future. Whatever happened now, Adora would always have the love of her family. Each one of them had affected her tremendously, and now it was time for Adora to draw upon the strength of her heritage.

Adora looked at Adam and nodded. She would not close her eyes and hold his hand, as she had done when coming to Eternia. This was her path to follow, and she would do so with eyes wide open. She grabbed Spirit's reins. Then Princess Adora stepped forward and walked into Castle Grayskull, ready now more than ever to meet her destiny.


End file.
